


Why Butters?

by Moku



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Language, M/M, Sappy, Slice of Life, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moku/pseuds/Moku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever wondered why they call Leopold Stotch "Butters"? No? Neither has Kenny. But it's just like Butters to misunderstand. I started with a one-shot and it turned into a time-consuming, hungry monster. I'm currently working on the 7th chapter. Decided to upload the FF here, because ff.net will probably delete this work with my seventh chapter which will change the rating to M.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leopold "Butters" Stotch

Leopold Stotch had never thought about why he was being called ‘Butters’. He always assumed that it was just something that _was_. Just like Stanley was Stan and everyone except Butters was calling Eric ‘Cartman’ or, more so ‘fat-ass’.

However, that was before he heard Kenny McCormick, sitting on the table with his friends ask to noone special, quote unquote “Why Butters?”. It wasn’t the first time aforementioned blond hadheard the hooded boy say those words and that was the problem. Seeing as Kenny was so concerned with his nickname made Butters feel pretty ignorant.

Heck, if it were just his semi-friends calling him ‘Butters’ he’d just say it was an ordinary nickname originating from… well, whatever it was. But even his teachers and parents – his whole family - were calling him Butters. It was even marred on the stone of his grave and for all of fifteen years he had never cared and, without him knowing, had made Kenny McCormick desperate with worry - or so he thought.

It made Butters happy in a guilty way. As far as he remembered nobody had ever shown so much interest as to wonder about him. Kenny was an awfully kind guy, and it wasn’t nice to keep his mind occupied with something that shouldn’t even be his problem in the first place.

Therefore Butters decided that, if Kenny wanted to know, Butters was going to give him an answer.

After some research, that is.

And Butters assumed, it would be best to start with where it possibly began – his parents. However, as soon as he put one foot into their kitchen, he saw his father sitting on the table with a sour look on his face and cornflakes in his plain turquoise mug, whilst his mother was preparing a meal with her back turned towards him even though she must have noticed that he had entered the kitchen.

Oh, hamburgers.

“Butters, will you mind telling us why I have to drink cornflakes instead of coffee?”, his father greeted him, his voice seething with undeniable anger.

Butters couldn’t even explain how after so many years, he was still able to put their groceries in the wrong place. He was forced to learn the alphabet even before his first day of school and could recite it since the first day his parents had told him to store the stuff he had used back into the kitchen cupboard by himself and that was around the ages of three or four.

His only explanation was that he was elsewhere with his mind during the difficult process of storing away his breakfast ingredients, though he couldn’t really point his finger on what exactly his mind had been on. Maybe it had been on the grammar test in English language, possibly on the fact that he was going to get grounded if he didn’t ace his Maths class, which really sucked because Maths wasn’t really his favorite subject and all and anyway, even the smartest kids he knew had a problem with their teacher and her way of showing them “what a bunch of idiots they are”. Teacher’s words, not his.

“How often do I have to tell you, that you have to put everything back in order. Do you see that?” His father showed him his mug. Thecornflakes had turned soft and gooey, exactly the way Butters loved them if they had been drenched in cold milk instead of hot water. The mug left his field of vision and was put to his fathers mouth, who took a few gulps from the peculiar mixture, grimacing in disgust as he swallowed. “Now your father has to drink that. Does your father have to drink cornflakes after a hard working day, Butters, does he?”

Butters was about to stammer an apology, when his father pointed to the ceiling. “You get up to your room right now. You are grounded, mister!”

Butters kept close attention to his grounded days and if the blond remembered correctly he was still grounded for the fact that as Eric had told him to take care of some business of his and bring his grandmother some food – which was really nice of Eric, to take care of his grandmother - he was sent to a ghetto-ish (because Butters wasn’t so sure what a ghetto was like or which criteria a district had to fulfill to be called ghetto) district in the north of South Park. Though one could hardly say north because, really, South Park was far to small to have districts and he was pretty sure the ghetto of South Park consisted of only one house, meaning the house of the McCormicks, which wasn’t as Eric has informed him a real house but originally a club house or backyard shedof some sort. Anyway, he had been sent to some scary and decayed block where he was attacked by starving stray cats, which ribbed his clothes to shreds so that they could get their claws on the meat he had put away in his pockets.

His parents had thought he had been playing bully and fought with a friend in school and grounded him for acting like some criminal he will certainly turn out to be if he kept that aggressive behavior and, as an afterthought, for disregarding the clothes his parents had bought from money they had pains to earn. In addition to not complete his mission (because the cats had stolen the food and even tried to eat Butters while they were at it) and being grounded, he hadn’t even found Eric’s grandmother to sincerely apologize. The other boy had been a swell friend and told him to stuff it when he explained what had happened. He had some nice pictures instead, Eric had told him, though Butters couldn’t make much sense of the last statement.

So, he was still grounded for that incident and would be for the next three days, wherefore he wondered, whether the new punishment would start today or when the last punishment ended.

Probably the latter, he decided without asking, because his father didn’t look like he had the patience to answer any of his questions and his mother still had her back to him, seemingly ignoring his presence.

No dinner for him, then.

And just like his dinner vanished the chance to ask his parents about his nickname.

With a sigh, Butters turned around, hanging his head low and marching up to his room to do his homework, rummaging through his bag to withdraw a sandwich he hadn’t eaten during lunch break. Well, it hadn’t even been his intention to eat it in the first place.

Putting his books on the desk, he leaned over his art homework. A badly drawn image of himself, his face copied from what he had seen in the mirror he had used. Their assignment had been to draw a pose typical to their character. Of course, Kyle had chosen a pose where he looked like some genius thinker. Eric had copied Einstein’s sticking-tongue-out portrait, denying the more or less insignificant fact that the man had been a Jew. Though when Kyle pointed that out, it only led to a long and heated fight between the two, which again ended with them being kicked out of class for the remaining time.

Butters had taken a long time choosing the pose (him smiling shyly into the mirror) even longer in choosing the two colors he should use – colors that were supposed to show their character. Craig had chosen cold colors, blue and white, he had seen it, because he was sitting beside the dark-haired boy. Bebe had used bright colors, yellow and orange, same as Kenny’s actually.

Butters sighed, putting the sheet of paper down.

Kenny had helped him choose the pose _and_ the colors. Once during class, as Kenny had walked up to the teachers desk, he had passed Butters table and noticed, that while all their classmates had started working on the drafts, Butters was still just staring into his mirror, unsure of what to do. It had been Kenny who told him that just openly smiling into the picture would be enough, because it certainly projected his character.

Butters had felt stupid for smiling into the mirror, while trying to catch that image. Until Kenny had grabbed his shoulders and, leaning over them, brightly smiled into the mirror, all the while whispering some dirty jokes in Butters ear, which made him blush more than smile. Butters was really good at drawing, but Kenny’s presence had made him nervous in a tingly happy way and he hadn’t even protested, when Kenny had started to guide his drawing hand, helping him create the disastrous draft that Butters would still keep and use as the one he was going to color.

Even though his parents might not be happy about the mark he was going to receive and would ground him.

For a short moment, the blond had even been tempted to draw the smiling face he saw reflected in the mirror, but suppressed the urge. It wouldn’t show his character. He knew that Stan had painted his best friend into his picture and probably nobody was going to protest it, but Butters, no, Kenny was no constant in his life and wouldn’t fit into his picture at all.

It was pathetic.

Kenny had really helped him that day and Butters couldn’t even figure something out that was supposed to be really easy.

But he would.

With a determined glare he thought, he would walk up to the person that really would have to know where his nickname came from, because he was a know-it-all and the smartest kid in school.

However, things were easier said than done.

The next day Kyle wasn’t really in a good mood and when Butters wanted to talk to him, Stan had pulled him away by his arm, mumbling something about staying out of the other’s way if he treasured his life and wait until his mood would be slightly better, which, as Stan assured him, wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Lunch time was the next chance to talk to him but Kyle still seemed angry, all the while fuming about whatever and not even Stan or Kenny could calm him down; the latter had actually given up somewhere between first and third period. Next to Butters sat Eric droning on about food and that fucking Stewart and Board of Education, but he wasn’t entirely listening, mostly thinking about how to approach his semi-friend without disturbing him in his anger routine.

It was actually after school, as Kyle was about to leave in a rush, that Butters got the courage to walk up to him. Waiting patiently behind his open locker until Kyle finally slammed the door shut. “Spit it out Butters. I don’t have all day”, the redhead acknowledge his presence, still looking sour.

The blond knocked his knuckles together, eyes darting from left to right, avoiding to look directly into the face of the clever boy. “Hi… hiya, Kyle”, he stuttered, eyes now intently inspecting the dirty floor. “J-just wanted t-ta ask ya somethin’.” Kyle was impatiently tapping his foot, giving a slightly annoyed sigh, which made Butters lose most of the courage he had built up during the day.

Well, Stan had warned him, he mused. He had known that Kyle was in a bad mood. Had something to do with Eric, who was again on some sort of warpath against whatever it was that had made him angry this time. If the blond had listened to him during lunch break he might have known.

“I… do ya…” he stammered.

“I do what?”, Kyle snapped, and Butters cringed. “Listen, buddy, I’m in a bit of a hur—”

“My name!”, the blond suddenly yelped, surprising the Jew into taking a step back. “Why d’ya call me B-Butters?” He almost chocked on the question, regretting it the instant he had voiced it.

How should _Kyle_ know?

Alright, so he did seem to know everything, but Butters wasn’t deluding himself into believing, that the other actually _cared_ enough to remember, that was if he even _did_ know at some point of time, which he somehow highly doubted.

It had been a really dumb idea.

“Let me clarify this. … Just to make sure”, Kyle replied slowly, voice by now free of any anger and confusion, and Butters looked up in relief, spotting a slight smile tugging on the other’s lips, amusement visible in the green eyes. “Your actual question is ‘Why Butters’?” He asked, illustrating quotation marks with the help of his fingers, while imitating Kenny’s almost desperately worried voice.

The blond frowned.

Was he that easy to figure out?

“Then its ‘Buttercup’”, Kyle finally answered with a satisfied smirk, Butters’ lack of reply enough response. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find a certain fat-ass somewhere in D.C.” The redhead turned around and walked away with a lopsided grin, not even thinking about explaining his words.

What did he even mean with _Buttercup_?

“D’ya… d’ya mean I look like a buttercup or somethin’?” he called after the other boy, who did not react to his words. “K-kyle?” Confused, he tried to catch up with the long secure strides of the redhead, following him outside the school building. However, before he could reach Kyle, he was grabbed by his arm and instantly pulled to the side.

“Dude!”

Surprised, he stared at one irritated Stan Marsh.

“What did you tell him?” Butters didn’t understand. “He’s been moody since yesterday and I couldn’t cheer him up the whole day and then you walk over to him and I was just about to save your life, because honestly, you do _not_ wish to – oh _whatever_ , just, _dude_ , **what** did you tell him?”, the dark haired boy exclaimed, pointing at his redheaded friend, who was currently engaged in a lively discussion with a certain hooded boy.

“Ah just asked why ya call me Butters”, he mumbled, stunned.

“That’s it?”,  Stan asked after a moment of disappointed silence.

“Y-yeah.”

“Wasn’t it because of ‘Butterscotch’?”

Butters paused before he looked up, surprised about the sudden jump in conversation. “Kyle said because of ‘Buttercup’.”

“Why ‘Buttercup’?”

“Dunno. … Why Butterscotch?”

“Well, Butters Stotch sounds a lot like Butterscotch.”

“Ma name’s Leopold Stotch…”

“So?”

“How d’ya get ta Butterscotch and then ta Butters?”

Butters had lost Stan at that point of conversation.

“I gotta go”, Stan finally opted after a long awkward silence, as the dull noise of an airscrew reached their ears, the wind suddenly catching up and growing stronger. The dark-haired boy turned on his heels and rushed to his two friends, who looked up to the helicopter that was about to land beside them, navigated by some Mexican guy, who seemed to suddenly lose control of the machine, swinging from left to right. Butters watched, wide eyed and obviously horrified, how the Mexican tried to gain control and the three friends under the helicopter dashed in different directions to save themselves.

Of course, the machine went right Kenny’s way.

“Watch out!”, Butters yelled, immediately catching the attention of the accident prone boy, who stopped dead in his steps and the helicopter whooshed right over his head, barely avoiding him and landing less than an inch next to the blond.

“Oh my God, they—” Stan started, probably already having imagined the death that surely had to have occured in his mind, but did not and he looked a bit disappointed at that, too. “No, never mind.”

“You bastards!”

“He didn’t die, Kyle.”

“No, but _we_ could have died.”

“Dude, wrong intonation. It’s _could.”_

“No, I mean _us_.” Kyle clarified, ignoring the dirty look he was receiving from their still surprisingly pretty alive friend, but instead wrenched the metallic sliding door open, pointing one accusing finger at the stoned Mexican, who looked at them with a lopsided grin.

“See you, Butterscotch”, Stan suddenly called, wrenching Kyle’s attention off of the pilot and instead onto the blond boy who was still quite shocked, mashing his knuckles together. The dark haired boy waved shortly in his direction before getting on the helicopter, pushing the Mexican guy out of the front seat and taking his place instead.

“Yeah, see you, Buttercup”, Kyle almost drawled the last word, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he was punched in the shoulder, courtesy of one Kenny McCormick, who, after throwing a short glance at Butters, pushed his friend behind Stan on the helicopter, all the while mumbling profanities under his breath.

Butters was confused.

He didn’t really think that Butterscotch was the reason and he didn’t know what Kyle had meant with Buttercup and, oh, he would just ask Wendy, he decided, mildly frustrated. Wendy was the smartest girl he knew and certainly at parwith Kyle.

He would ask Wendy.

Wendy always knew advice.

“I have no idea.”

These four words somehow shattered the impeccable image Butters had of Wendy Testaburger, who he had found in the library, surrounded by piles of books about declarations with foreign names, many –ism’s and long titles with a lot of x’s and y’s. He hoped it wasn’t something he should know for any of _his_ classes or he would probably fail and get grounded. Again.

“I always thought it had something to do with you being as soft as butter”, Bebe chirped. The blonde was sitting next to her best friend, head cocked in a contemplating pose, while playing with a strand of her long curly hair. “You are cute and friendly and all, you couldn’t even harm a fly.”

“Pussy”, Red muttered under her breath, but Butters wasn’t so sure about whether he had heard her right.

Probably not.

“Or maybe because you like butter a lot”, Heather interjected.

“I-Ah, d-don’t like butter a whole lot,” Butters confessed. “And Kyle said Buttercup.”

“Why would Kyle say that?”, Wendy asked, confused.

“Maybe you should ask your parents. Looks like you got that nickname from them”, Angelica reasoned, nibbling at the butt of her pen. “Buttercup sounds more like something your Granny would call you.”

“Yeah, just like in that old song,” Red intervened again. “ _‘I’m proud to say that she’s my buttercup. I’m in love. I’m all shook up. Ohuhuhu, ohu’_. Now, wouldn’t that just fit lil’ flamin’ butterfly?” The other girls on the tabled stared blankly at their friend, who didn’t even care about elaborating, just shoveling through some papers until she found the one she was looking for.

“Don’t mind her”, Bebe finally sighed, shaking her head, “she just has a thing for Kenny.”

The blond boy didn’t really know what that had to do with him or her being _angry_ with him, but he might have enraged her in some way or another. He had a tendency to do that without noticing.

“How come you don’t know the answer?,” Token interrupted his train of thought, not exactly sitting with the girls but having obviously over heard the conversation. Butters turned around to Token’s table, spotting a twitching blond and a desinterested dark haired boy who had abandoned his blue aviator hat somewhere around sixth grade.

“I-uh have never asked”, he admitted, sinking his head low.

“And why do you ask now?”

“Because”, Butters stopped, before shaking his head. “I‘d like ta know. What do ya think?” Token stared at him with a blank look, probably contemplating the question. Butters let his eyes wander to Craig, who, without even looking up, just flipped him off with his very infamous middle finger.

“Gah! Don’t look at me! Nyag, this pressure!”, was all Tweek answered, barely concealing his sudden spasm, which led Craig to flip Butters off again.

“Have you ever thought about the option, that there is no answer to that question anymore?” Token finally offered. “That it is just something that might have happened because of a sick joke and nobody remembers the joke but just the outcome?”

“T-the joke’s the answer, then.” Butters reasoned.

“So, you would want to know a joke nobody remembers?”

“If that’s what it takes”, Butters answered, determined.

“Or maybe you should just take a look at your face, ugly!” Red interrupted, slamming her notes down on the table with more force than necessary. “It’s _butters._ ” Her eyes flashed livid when she looked up, before she stood up and vanished with an indignant huff behind one of the shelves.

The blond’s eyes widened at the girl’s outburst.

He must have done something really terrible.

“You’re not ugly,” Angelica assured him.

“No, just fey”, Clyde claimed dryly, not looking up from his homework.

“Douche, you’ve got it all wrong”, Craig suddenly piped up in a bored tone. “Your nickname’s not the answer to his question.”

“Who’s question?”, Bebe asked intrigued, but Craig just flashed her the bird before turning back to his book, again completely ignoring everyone around him.

“God, Craig, is that all you are ever going to answer?” the blonde huffed, “Don’t you dare flip me off again!” she yelled, when the darkhaired boy was about to raise his hand, probably to perform the expected gesture.

He flashed her anyway.

At that moment Butters decided it was time to go. It being late and all and Bebe was throwing books at the dark-haired teen’s head, which sent Tweek nearly into hysterics and made the librarianabandon her seat near the door and swiftly walk over to the group with a furious look.

Butters didn’t want to get caught in a situation like that because if his parents heard about it he would be grounded and he had still nine days left from the cat accident and the cornflakes incident. Speaking of his parents, he had to have been home around four and a quick look at his watch told him that he only had half an hour left.

“Ahh, shucks,” was all Butters muttered before he started to bolt.

If he was lucky he could catch the bus home. He would just have to hurry and pray to whatever was listening, that maybe his parents were a few minutes late, that the bus actually came on time at least _once_ in his lifetime and the lights would be green and no snow would cover any path they would take and maybe – Butters had a feeling that he was really pushing his luck there but he just could _not_ risk being late for his punishment curfew.

However, as a matter of fact, it wasn’t going to be Butters day.

At all.

It just had to happen an accident on the roads halfway across the town. Rumors would have it, that a boy fell from heaven and crashed on the grey pavement. Surprisingly, he survived the fall, an oncoming truck could actually push his breaks on time, but the trailer swayed, tipped over and the driver’s cabin crashed into the corner shop, while the goods packed in wooden boxes, crushed said unfortunate boy.

It had been an instant death.

Butters hadn’t been supposed to be on the 3.31 PM bus. He couldn’t even use that accident as some sort of excuse, not that his parents would probably care.

In a panic reaction, he had left the bus, worked his way through the gawking crowd and took every short cut he knew to get to his house as soon as possible.

Yet, his mother’s car was already parked in the garage.

And Butters had been grounded yet another two days for being two minutes late.

Eleven days, then.

His personal record had been three months and ten days.

That had been for walking around the gay red light district and behaving like a slut. At least, that’s what his father had said. However, Butters had only asked one of the nice boys he met on the road for directions. Cartman had sent him to bring his uncle some medicine. If Butters was faced with problems, he should just ask for Charlie and everybody would immediately know who he was talking about and bring him to said person. When he had arrived at Main Street he couldn’t find the house number, walked up and down the street several times, all the while being eyed with suspicion by the local residents who seemed to enjoy the warm weather on their threshold. That’s what the situation had looked like to the blond at least.

Eventually, frustrated, he opted for a boy that had watched him with a slight smirk while he had been running around heedlessly, but still seemed to be the nicest among the crowd who stared at him with discomfort, and approached him with a friendly smile. As soon as he had mentioned he was looking for one Uncle Charlie, the brunette looked at him with a funny expression before giving a short laugh and offering to bring him to the meeting place, all the while eyeing the pills in the blond’s hands.

Butters had assumed the boy was in dire need of some medication as well, even offered him a pill for his help. The boy had been overjoyed and Butters thought he must have had one heck of a headache. The brunette wanted to serve him for the pills, which Butters declined.

Why would he need a servant?

Anyway it was then, while Butters followed the happily glowering boy, who became displeasinglytouchy as he slung one arm around his shoulder and started to speak in a very low, husky voice almost flirtatiously. He only recognized that tone because it was the way Kenny always suggested his two closest friends a threesome. Though Jimmy had to explain to him what a threesome was. And that had made Butters blush. Furiously.

The blond had difficulties to understand the quiet words of the unknown boy, and moved closer to his lips. He could feel the warm breath tickling his ears and he had to think of Kenny, cheeks reddening, and the brunette had smirked, had pressed feathered kisses to his chin and that had been how his father had spotted him on Main Street.

Followed by a lot of yelling, cursing, accusing, fighting between his parents and a ban to _ever_ come anywhere near that street _again_. Butters had spent almost one and a half months in solitude until summer break ended and school started again.

The blond had never been this anxious for school to start.

The following half-month ended without incident and Butters was facing his last day of being grounded, when his mother had lost her grip on a precious porcelain teapot after he had startled her with his morning greetings.

That had been another month.

The last ten days had been for coming late four times, adding up to a sum of ten minutes.

That had been his autumn break and Butters was once again very happy about being back to school, which had made his classmates almost throttle him after he declared exactly those words to Kyle, who had rolled his eyes and shook his head before muttering something about ‘not even him being that much of a nerd’, with a whole lot more swearing than Butters cared to remember.

Withdrawing a yogurt from his bag, he sat down on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with his head resting against the plain wall, digesting the information he had received that day.

So, basically, nobody knew anything.

He would have to ask Kyle again the next day. And probably try to lure out an explanation of Craig.

The dark-haired boy definitely knew that Butters was asking because of Kenny. So, his name wasn’t the answer to the question, huh? Then what else should “Why Butters?” mean? Maybe he had misinterpreted the question and the blond actually meant something akin to, uhm, whatever.

However, that wouldn’t explain Kyle’s behavior and, oh, Butters thought he could feel the beginning of a headache.

It really shouldn’t be _this_ hard to figure out the origins of a stupid nickname.

“I’m so stupid,” Butters mumbled into his pillow, pushing his face deeper into the soft fabric. Maybe he should just give up. It’s not like the answer would be at all world changing. No divine wonder would occur. People would still suffer from hunger, lose their loved ones and die ghastly deaths. No, all the answer would do was satisfy Butters’ own selfish desires.

He turned his head slightly, eyes fixed on the tree growing outside his window, leaves rustling in the slight breeze. The sun was about to set, he would have to do his homework and prepare for a test in algebra but he just couldn’t get himself up.

Butters was never one to give in to his depressions. He was always looking at the bright side of life, nothing much could get him down.

So why was he feeling like one big failure?

There was no obligation towards Kenny. The blond didn’t actually know, that Butters tried to help him ease his mind. He had made no promise (besides with himself) but he had wanted so badly to do something for the blond, who was always willing to help him and who he had never properlyrepaid.

Kenny (and Stan and Kyle) had helped him, when Eric forced him to sell some illegal stuff to elementary school kids and saved him from being discovered (as his luck was never the best) and being grounded. Kenny (and Craig) had been there, when some jocks decided it would be fun to throw Butters into the closest thrash can and instantly returned the favor on his behalf. Kenny had brought him a cup of hot chocolate (after haggling Tweeks coffee money off the spasming blond) when he had sat at the corner of a street, drenched in rain soaked clothes, unable to leave.

There were more occasions Kenny had helped him than Butters could count and he never realized.

His eyes widened in the dimly light.

Of course, he had known that Kenny had helped him more than once but Butters had never realized what an important role the other blond actually played in his life.

Kenny was probably the only one he might call a _friend_ \- even if the other didn’t feel so. Though, was somebody a friend if it was only one-sided?

Butters frowned, before he pressed his face into the pillow with a frustrated groan. He was sick of thinking and worrying so much. His breath eased gradually as he tried to push any and every thought that might iniquitously and inexplicably enter his mind into the back of his conscience. There was nothing to worry about, he reassured himself.

Slowly the chaos in his head settled down, replaced by an empty calm, vanishing into silent darkness as his mind went completely blank.

_I didn’t do my homework!_ was the first thought crossing his mind, when he woke up with a start, noticing that he had overslept. Well, not really _overslept_ but by Butters standards he had only a little over an hour to get to school and about ten minutes to leave for the school bus. He couldn’t follow his morning routine and he needed that sort of normalcy and sense of habit. He needed to wake up early, then use the bathroom, get dressed, prepare his cereal and then eat it while watching cartoons on the Disney channel. He would shut the TV off, when he could hear his parents waking up, slight thuds from the ceiling and soft voices whispering cloudy words to each other, and he would head to the kitchen to take the lunch his mother usually prepared the evening before, because he used to leave the house before his parents got downstairs.

However, right now he was rushing through the first two steps of his usual routine, toothbrush sticking out his mouth, while he simultaneously tried to slide his pants on, scuttling on one foot. The scent of coffee wafted through the air from the kitchen to the bathroom.

So his parents were already up?

Nevermind.

After partly successfully putting his clothes on, he spit the white foam into the brink, cleaned it with running water and stormed into his room, grabbing his bag and rushed down the stairs into the kitchen, where his father was sitting at the table, drinking his coffee. He looked up, when Butters halted in his tracks, breathing heavily.

“Morning, son”, his father greeted. “Your mother prepared breakfast for you.” He motioned to the plate that was sitting neatly on Butters usual spot. That meant his mother was already long gone. He didn’t know she was going to leave early that day. If that was the case she would have to go to some kind of conference but she still took her time preparing his meal. It had been so long since he had something other than cereal for breakfast and the thought of toast with fried ham was really appealing, but he had only a little time to get to the bus stop.

His father must have felt his hesitation, because he looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Sit down, son. I can bring you to school.”

The blond eyes widened, when he heard his fathers words.

His parents were so _not_ going to see him interact with the people at school. If they would know how he was treated among the other boys and girls and even _teachers_ they would ground him for like _forever_.

Butters sure knew that he wasn’t one of the popular crowd, actually he was in nobody’s crowd. If he were lucky Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Eric would let him sit at their table. If he wasn’t too noisy and would just keep quiet sometimes, when he had a very good day (and Token always claimed that depended on Tweek), Craig wouldn’t bat him off their table, when he sat down beside Clyde. Most of the time, though, he sat alone or with Eric, but that was only when the brunette had a big fight with Kyle. Like yesterday.

It wasn’t like Stan and Kyle would object, when he joined them at their table. Stan was too nice to say anything and Kyle just didn’t care. Kenny wouldn’t mind either. He would steal food off of Butters plate, but that happened on a mutual unvoiced understanding between them.

Butters always brought more food than he needed to school. He had actually done it for Kenny from the very beginning.

It had started with a big misunderstanding on Butters’ part… or Kenny’s part, Butters didn’t know anymore. It had been when Kenny couldn’t afford lunch and had nothing to eat during lunch period. Without thinking twice, Butters had offered him one of his sandwiches, which the boy promptly threw back in his face, turned around and walked away, mumbling about how he “ain’t no fuckin’ charity case”.

Butters didn’t talk to Kenny for about a week because he had been scared the other boy was still angry with him and he wouldn’t want to fuel that fire further. Coincidentally, a few days later, Stan forgot his lunch money and Kyle was at home, sick in his bed. Eric wouldn’t lend any money to the dark-haired boy and well; Kenny would have if he could have. When Butters noticed the dilemma of the other boy, stomach loudly growling in protest to its vacuity, he just shoved his tray over to the other and invited him to eat as much as he wanted.

Stan accepted with little protest, mumbling what a great friend he was while stuffing fries in his mouth.

The next day, Kenny sort of apologized for his behavior the week before, eyes never quite looking at the shy blond. He was just sick of being treated like some ghetto poor ass pauper and over-reacted when Butters had just intended to be nice, he explained.

A few days later, when Butters sat next to Kenny, absentmindedly picking at his food in a bored manner, the hooded blond had, without even asking, started stealing bits and pieces off his plate. Not much at the beginning, but so much more after Butters brought more food than necessary, claiming his mother made him too much and he wouldn’t want to throw it all away.

But that was only when he was sitting with the guys and Eric wouldn’t kick him off the table.

Butters hoped Kenny would be there today.

He could offer him fried ham.

“I’d l-like ta walk”, he finally answered, got a Tupperware container and put the food inside, before bidding his father good bye and rushing out the door.

There was _no way_ he would let his parents take him to school. Even if it meant waking up early just to catch a bus that would arrive half an hour before school started.

As soon as he was out the door he could hear the distinct noise of a helicopter above his head. He looked up, almost immediately noticing red auburn looks and the smiling face of a boy waving at him against the sun. Butters stopped, shyly waving back, when suddenly a rope ladder was rolled down to him. He jumped back in surprise and the boy shouted something at him, though he could only make out syllables. The helicopter was slowly descending, and Butters could feel the heavy weight of twisting air. “But-n, -up.” Taking a deep breath, he finally grabbed for the ladder and pulled himself up, appreciating the fact that whoever was piloting that thing – probably Stan – tried to make it as easy as possible for him, going as far down as they deemed appropriate. When he finally reached the end, Kyle grabbed for his hands and helped him up.

Butters heaved a sigh, and then looked around. Kyle was still smiling at him, hands on his knees while he bent down to watch the blond on the floor. “Hey there Butterbean”, he greeted, provoking a choke from the other end. Butters looked to the origin of the sound and discovered Eric, restrained by bonds.

“Now it’s Butterbean?” Stan asked from the front and Kyle joined him as co-pilot.

“Whatever works”, the redhead replied and Butters shot them a questioning look. “Hey, Butters”, Stan now greeted him, flashing him a wide smile, but immediately turned back to avoid crashing them into anything.

“So, how’s your day so far?”, Kyle asked, looking back at the blond who decided that this was all a very weird dream, though he knew he was awake and that, if he didn’t sit down somewhere safe, he might fall out that helicopter and end like the boy from yesterday. So, he sat down beside Eric, who was glaring daggers at him.

“Uhm… ya know…” he stuttered. “Same old stuff.”

Kyle nodded. “Same as fat-ass here, then.”

“Ay! I’m big boned yew dirty Jewish faggot!”

“I’d watch my mouth, shit head”, was what the redhead replied with a satisfied grin, leaning back with his hands crossed behind his neck. Butters had a feeling that the other two were deeply pleased with themselves. “Fat-ass here tried to become minister of the Board of Education.”

Oh, so that’s why Eric went to Washington.

“ _In_ correct! I _became_ minister of education, Kahl!” the brunette snarled.

“So, where is Kenny?” Butters interrupted, not really interested in what had been going on between the trio but more as to where the fourth of the group was.

Eric pulled a face, snorting in disgust.

“You’re right, he might have a chance with little Butterbean”, the black haired boy chuckled.

“Told you so.”

The blond frowned in confusion. He had a feeling that they were having a completely different conversation.

“What’s that ‘bout Butterbean?”, he questioned, nervously mashing his knuckles together.

“Kenny got lost yesterday.” Kyle suddenly explained and Butters eyes widened in horror. “Had a fight with Manuel here and was pushed out of the helicopter.”

“Is he coming back today?”

“Who knows. Why?”

Butters fumbled with the straps of his backpack, sighing in disappointment. “I’ve got fried ham.”

“Did you prepare that just for him?”, Kyle asked, genuinely surprised. “I mean, we know you always bring twice as much as you need, but actually going that far.”

“What do you mean, you _know_?”

“Dude, are you serious?” Stan asked, eyes squinting when he detected the gray rundown school buildings and prepared for landing. “Everybody knows you bring food for Kenny. It’s like an unwritten rule that you are the only one who is allowed to do that.”

“If someone else would try that they’d have their food back in their face.”

“He thinks it’s cute how you still believe he doesn’t know.”

Stan made a safe landing with the helicopter, put the headset down and sighed in relief. Butters stared at the blue-ish plastic box in his hand, before getting up. “C-could ya give that t-ta Kenny?”, he asked, pushing the box against Kyles chest, who was just about to get up, and jumped out of the helicopter, heading to his first class.

He had still some time left to do the homework he had forgotten. He would have to skip lunch period to finish the rest, but he had a feeling that after the bad start, the day was going to be fun.

He didn’t even know why he suddenly felt happy.

But there was something only _he_ was allowed to do.

And that made him sickeningly happy.

Classes went by faster than expected. When he heard the ring of the bell and he thought he would have to endure the next hour of Mister Bernstein talking _again_ about World War II and how his mother had told him stories of how they had tried to survive in Nazi-Germany until they finally left, first to France, than further up to America, the bell had rang a second time to announce the end of class.

As he walked to his locker to get his notes for second period algebra he spotted a certain blond walking down the corridor, hands in his kangaroo pockets at the front of his faded brown hoodie. Inexplicable delighted, Butters contemplated greeting the other boy, but before he reached a decision, Stan and Kyle had already flanked Kenny on both sides and the gray-blue eyes of the blond prior listless now lit up and a slight smile graced his lips.

They were really best friends, the blond concluded pointlessly, heading to his locker, deciding against greeting.

“Hey there Buttercream.”

The addressed jerked, before turning towards the voice that had called him, and he was met with a wolfish smile spread over Kyle’s face, which made Butters slightly nervous.

Kenny however stopped dead in his tracks, before spinning around and gripping the redhead by his collar, brusquely bumping him into the closest locker. Butters cringed and Stan watched stunned. The hooded boy hissed words Butters didn’t catch, but seemed to make the redhead’s smile widen and, in retrospect Kenny only angrier.

“Dude, that’s enough”, Stan finally intervened, pressing a hand on Kenny’s shoulder. The blond only slapped it off, but loosened his grip nonetheless and eventually removed his hands altogether, clenching them into tight fists. “That ain’t cool”, Kenny muttered.

“Chill, dude. Your chances are good.”

“Fuck _you_!”

Kenny pressed his hands into his pockets before storming down the corridor, pass Butters who watched them frightened, but tried to give a slight smile when the boy almost unnoticeable glanced at him while storming by.

“Hiya, Ke—”

“ _Leave me alone!_ ”

Butters frowned, a little hurt at the angry words, but then just shrugged it off. He would see Kenny in his next class and it wasn’t like he was angry at _him_ but more so at Kyle, for whatever reason. He opened his locker, withdrawing his algebra notes and text book. “So Buttercream”, Kyle drawled, approaching the blond. “Stan and I forgot our algebra books. Would you lend us yours?”

“Dude, I—”

Kyle elbowed his friend in his chest and Butters blinked in surprise, didn’t even realize that the redhead had already taken the book off his hand, a happy grin placed on his lips, when he walked away. “Thanks a bunch, Butterpie”, he waved with the book, while Butters just stared after the duo.

“Dude, you act like a bully”, Stan stated.

“Well, payback time for all the shit he had pulled on me… And you.”

Butters frowned.

Again.

He was somehow lost between yesterday and today, as if a day was missing or something, because the other people around him were so not having the same conversation. He felt like they were talking in riddles, as if they knew something everyone but Butters knew. It was quite vexing and made him a queasy bit nervous.

And since when was Kyle the _bad_ guy?

Well, according to Kenny, Stan had always had a thing for closeted assholes. Like Wendy. And Kyle was actually worse than Wendy, when it came to things they didn’t like or felt endangered by. They seemed like nice, helpful kids at first glance, but if you would look behind the exterior one would see many little cackling Cartmans looming behind them, creating an atmosphere of arbitrary dread.

That’s what Kenny had told him.

He didn’t understand back then, but watching Kyle’s back, Butters’ book swinging back and forth in one hand, the other resting behind his neck, Butters thought he might be able to make sense of the words.

And that they might be true.

“Oh hamburgers”, he mumbled, closing his locker and strolling to his classroom. He was sitting in the front row, next to him Kenny because he had come in late first day at school to save himself a spot. Butters wouldn’t ask Kenny. He had a bad day and wouldn’t impose on the other. Yet, to his left sat a girl that more than once had felt the need to tell him how much she hated Butters, though never cared to explain why exactly.

There was noone else he could ask.

He would have to endure, he told himself.

Kyle winked at him from across the room, mouthing thanks before he turned towards Stan. Butters sighed in defeat and counted the seconds passing by, counting the minutes he had to look like he actually knew what the teacher was talking about when she pointed out a very important formula or as if he was contemplating the answer to a calculation he couldn’t see.

Though he didn’t seem to do a very convincing job, when the teacher suddenly walked up to him. “Where is your text book, Mister Stotch.” The high-pitched voice of the tall women surprised him and he looked up from his task of looking busy.

Nervously, he knocked his knuckles together and looked up with wide eyes into the stern face of the strict women. “I-uh”, he shot a glance at Kyle, who pointedly averted his eyes, “forgot… it”, he finished lamely, lowering his eyes.

The older women sighed in annoyance, turning towards the girl that so conveniently loathed him. “Miss Williams, would you mind sharing your book?” The long haired blond looked up from her algebra book, shooting a death glare at the boy before replying, in all earnestly, without even batting an eyelash: “Sorry, Ms. Abel, I forgot my book as well.”

Deadly silence.

“Well…” the women finally collected herself, turning towards Kenny. “Mister McCormick, would you be so kind?” She didn’t even wait for a reply before turning around and walking towards the front. Butters shot a wary glance at Kenny, who threw a dirty look at someone behind Butters head – probably Kyle – then just pushed his desk away.

“Fuck this”, he cursed, standing up and with more force than necessary threw the book at Butters, who could barely avoid being hit square in the face, before stomping out of the room. “I’m outta here.” The door was slammed shut and everybody in the room averted his attention from the loud bang still hanging in the air to look at the blond boy in the front row.

“Boy, are you loved”, the Williams girl commented, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Butters didn’t reply. He just kept his eyes down, fumbling for the book.

What did he miss?, he wondered, feeling the stares at his head, hearing the whispered insults and questions. Or did Kenny really just have a bad day? Same as Kyle, maybe? Why were they constantly fighting and why would Kyle look like he somehow enjoyed the death threads the other blond would mumble and spit at him?

Where did Butters take another turn than the rest of the school?

He couldn’t point his finger on it. His head was spinning and not just because he had somehow lost track of what they were currently doing in algebra. Butters tried to push those distracting thoughts back in favor to listen to what was being said in class but they would still try to creep their way back into his active conscience only disturbed by the shrill ringing of the school bell.

Closing the book and throwing all his belongings into the backpack, he nearly escaped to his next class, where there would be no Kenny or Stan and Kyle or even Eric. He had a feeling that his day was going down the drain and actually ending worse than it had started.

And till this point starting a day without his favorite cartoons was actually the worst Butters could imagine, which made his aforementioned assumption sound like the apocalypse.

“You look – ngh – bad, Butters.” The blond glanced at Tweek, who sat down next to him, head slightly bowed to the side. His twitching had gradually become less (Token said because of a new therapy Craig had tried on the spasming blond) and would mostly show when he was either very nervous or didn’t get his coffee in the morning (and every following hour), however it had yet to show in his speech pattern.

“’Cause the guys are acting like pricks”, Craig replied, his chair tipped back, touching Tweek’s desk behind him, arms crossed behind his head.

“I’m fine”, Butters replied with a wry smile.

Though Kenny wasn’t.

He sighed in distress, listening to his teacher droning on about the book they were currently analyzing. They would have to finish reading that book to next week and he was only half-way through. Butters didn’t particularly care why some boy of higher society would go and sleep with a women that could be his mother, and worse, then wanting to date her daughter, and he was sure that his parents would throw a fit if they knew what they were reading in school but he tried to endure the dull monotone voice of Mister Hankins, his attention drifting.

Maybe he should apologize to Kenny.

And he had still his algebra book and would have to give that back anyway.

A slight sigh escaped his lips and Tweek watched him with a worried expression, though he ignored it.

He would just have to bite the bullet.

Dreaded lunchtime was coming to soon even though literature class always felt like a few hours. However, he took a deep breath and entered the crowded and noisy cafeteria. He spotted the loud quartette easily at one of the tables near the windows. Eric was smirking, watching as Kyle and Kenny were arguing again and Stan looked like he was really sick of it.

Oh boy.

“Will you shut up already?”, Kennys voice roared through the canteen, words loud and clear. Some students stopped to stare at the fighting pair but continued to eat as soon as the blond scathingly glared at them.

This was wrong, Butters thought. He should just stop and run the other way. He knew he should. He really really _really_ should just _leave_. But it was too late, he already stood behind Kenny and Stan had noticed him, a slight reassuring smile appearing on his lips.

Not. helping. much.

“Ke-Kenny?”, he asked in a timid voice.

“And you!” Kenny yelled, promptly turning around in his chair, “Get the _fuck_ away from me! I can’t stand your _presence_!”

Butters eyes widened, before he slightly bit his lip. “I’m…” he tried, voice faltering.

Kenny couldn’t stand his presence?

That had really stung, he realized surprisingly levelheaded, before a slight sad smile played his lips as he looked down on the other, who had his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Ya … really a nice person”, he finally managed, not only surprising himself but everyone who heard his words. “Ya awesome. I didn’t know, though even though ya don’t like me ya still always tried ta help me.” He fumbled with the strap of his backpack. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ta be a bother.” Butters hoped nobody noticed the hitch in his voice. “Though I won’t be anymore. I promise, Kenny.” He inconspicuously slid the book on the table, trying not to let it bother him, how Kenny was still staring apathetically to the other side, out of the window, as if Butters wasn’t standing there, apologizing and trying to not look as hurt as he was. “Thanks for lettin’ me have that”, he mumbled, disappointed at the lack of reaction.

He turned away, towards the exit, hoping against hope that someone would stop him.

“You are a stupid jerk, Kenny.”

“That was low, even for you,” Stan agreed with his best friend.

“I was going to say something inappropriate, but I wouldn’t want to spoil the heart wrenching moment, now would I Kenneh?”

Butters would eat outside. It was a little fresh but he would get used to it. He felt like crap, but he didn’t want anyone to see it on his face. It didn’t feel good to be disliked by a person you liked, he mused. Though he should get used to the feeling because it didn’t look like those circumstances would ever change.

See?

Nobody was getting up and following him outside.

They all had someone else they would rather wanted to spend their time with.

That’s what you get for almost but never quite belonging, he thought, when the cool air hit his face, ruffling his hair. Looking around, he decided on a spot that wouldn’t be able to be seen from the canteen.

The last thing he wanted was someone to look at him sitting alone on a bench in the cold wind. And it was really cold, he noticed, taking an apple out of his bag and withdrawing the book he had to read for English literature.

He should have taken a jacket with him.

“Kenny doesn’t hate you.”

Butters almost lost the grip on his book, startled as he looked up at the the boy that approached him. He gave a week smile, before returning to his book. “Ya don’t need ta sugar coat it”, he mumbled, feeling the other sitting down beside him.

“No really, he is just being an ass”, Stan insisted.

“Kenny’s entitled ta like and dislike whoever he wants.” Butters reasoned, but something inside him yelled at the unfairness. No, Kenny should _not_ be allowed to choose, he pondered, biting his lip. Especially not if the only one he seemed to dislike was only Butters and that wasn’t fair because _he_ liked the blond so much more than anyone else.

“I must have bothered him somehow.”

“Dude!”, Stan exclaimed, exasperated. “You didn’t even _talk_ to him at all this _week_. There is _no_ way you could have bothered him. It’s **not** _your_ fault that Kenny can’t cope with his problem and that Kyle is _really_ a dick about it.”

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout?”, Butters asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, _dude_ , _what_ exactly _are_ you talking about?”

The two boys looked up to see Kyle standing in front of them, one hand to his hip, the other clenching on the brown hood of a certain blond boy who looked everything but pleased to be man handled by none other than the redhead. Kyle shot a glare at his best friend, who didn’t bulk under the death glare but simply stuck his tongue out in prepubescent resistance.

“Anyway, I brought Kenny to apologize”, he said in a tone that obviously suggested that this conversation was not over, then pushed Kenny forward. The two blonds stared at each other. Butters played with the dog-ears of his book and Kenny crossed the arms in front of his chest, averting his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Butters mumbled faintly.

Stan pinched his nose, shaking his head. “Not you! _Kenny_ is the—”

“Ya don’t understand”, Butters interrupted, not looking up. “I couldn’t figure it out.”

Kenny frowned, looking down at the blond who looked up with an apologetic expression. “I tried ta figure it out but nobody could help me. And it’s a stupid thing and it should be easy ta find out but then everybody said somethin’ else and that’s not an apology or so I just – just am sorry to bother ya. I wanted ta help ya, so ya wouldn’t have to occupy ya with it, but… I… The answer ta yer question. I couldn’t figure it out.”

“What question?”, Kenny prompted, frowning in contemplation.

Butters bowed his head. “‘Why Butters’,” he replied, quietly.

Kenny gave a strangled sound and Butters started to worry, noticing that the face of the other had suddenly blanched, a mixture of emotion showing in his eyes Butters couldn’t clearly identify but panic seemed to be an overall fitting description. 

“I’m going to figure it out!” Butters hastily added, jumping off the bench, approaching and trying to reassure the seemingly panicked boy.

“What? No!”, Kenny exclaimed, taking a step back.

“But… but … ya worried ‘bout it!”

“So? It’s got nothin’ to do with you!”

“But it’s _my_ name.”

Kenny opened his mouth, about to shout back a reply, when he suddenly halted, then raised an eyebrow in question. “Your name?”

Butters mashed his knuckles together. “I’m going to find out why they call me Butters.” He announced, determined. “Yupp, I really am.”

“Your _name_?”, Kenny repeated stupidly, dumbstruck.

„Yeah.“

„... ‘Why Butters’?“

The blond frowned, throwing a short glance at Kyle, who had turned his back to them, shoulders trembling. Stan stood beside him still pinching the base of his nose, all the while shaking his head in apathetic resignation.

Did he miss something _again_?

So Craig was right? His name wasn’t the answer?

Then _what_ exactly was the question?

Kenny gave a pained groan when they could hear a slight chuckle from Kyle, which soon grew into a full-fledged laughing fit, though he had the courtesy to try to stifle it with his hands clamped over his mouth.

“It’s _little buddy_!”, Kenny growled, hands balling into tight fist.

“What?”

“ _Your name_!” he explained through gritted teeth. “You’ve got it from _little buddy_ ”. The blond snarled in desperate anger, before he turned around with a sharp spin, pushing Kyle hard against the back when he stormed by. “Seriously, dude, _why_ **Butters**?”

Kyle chuckled, before enthusiastically yelling back: “Because that’s just like him!”


	2. Wendy Testaburger

“Why Butters?”, Kenny groaned, his head hitting the table with a dull thud.

Wendy looked up from her notes, watching the stressed boy, before pursing her strawberry lip glossed lips. “Why Cartman?”, she countered.

The blond looked up, staring into her stern face.

“You win”, he finally answered, sharing her distress.

At least Butters had one fine booty.


	3. Kyle Broflovski

The moment Butters had approached him and asked his stupid question, Kyle had known that he was going to have a blast with the two equally stupid blondes.

Both of them would make a scene on a daily basis without even knowing they made one, and besides math and vector algebra those meetings between those two actually made his day. So, when he noticed Kenny heading to their table with a determined look plastered on his face, he knew there was something about to go on.

“You see that, Butters?” Kenny suddenly asked without forewarning, turning the other blonde’s head around to face the back of the canteen. Butters objected with a strangled sound against the rough treatment, but didn’t voice any further protest, just followed with his eyes to where Kenny was pointing. “That’s Tammy. My ex-girlfriend.”

“Gee, Kenny, I know who Tammy is”, Butters frowned, loosening the strong hold on his head.

“She’s a pro in giving head”, Kenny explained, ignoring the interjection. Butters face flushed beet-red and Kyle shoved his plate to the side, preparing himself for one of the best shows yet to come.

This was going to be fun.

“And even though she has a boyfriend right now, she once in a while would make an exception for me.”

“Uhm… Ken-”

“And you know what?” The hooded blonde now turned towards Butters, directly facing him, poking one finger against his chest. “I’m going to give her up, because I’m stupidly romantic and annoyingly loyal.”

Kyle snorted at these words.

Sure, Kenny never cheated on Tammy – or any other girlfriend he had, for that matter.

However, the only reason Kenny could claim that was because throughout the month he had dated Tammy (and the others) he had broken it of with her the day before he was going to bed another girl. A few days later Tammy would call and ask what went wrong and they would be back together and if somehow word got out about Kenny and another girl he could always argue that that had been when they had a time-out.

Kenny better not do that to Butters, Kyle thought.

It wasn’t that Kyle liked Butters – or hated him. He merely… tolerated the nervous blonde, because, honestly, Butters was the kind of person who could pull the asshole out of everyone. Even Mother Theresia, beyond a doubt. It was just the way he wouldn’t fight oppression, the way he accepted every bullshit that was thrown at his face with a smile and without much of a fight; the way his eyes darted around nervously and how he would almost unnoticeably shiver like a gerbil whenever danger was near.

He unwittingly awakened the urge to bully him.

However, the really surprising thing was, that Kyle had never seen Butters cry.

Not when some asshole thought it might be fun to stick his head in a toilet, or when Officer Barbrady shot his pet dog because he thought the animal was a Chupacabra in hiding (which he incidentally was but that was beside the point). He didn’t see Butters complain when some older girl asked him out for a party and let him wait about two and a half hours in the cold pouring rain just to drive by with her girlfriends and current boyfriend to laugh at him – the same boyfriend who by the way, one day later beat the shit out of him for talking to his woman. He did get angry at some of the shit Cartman pulled on him sometimes, but even though many of those things had been more than just plain cruel and painful, he came back smiling. Like when Cartman prostituted Butters to get the money for some game and the blond was nearly raped by two, stinky, old, sadistic bastards that wanted to take the boy double; or that one time when Cartman told Butters to take care of a goat and they found out the goat Butters was sitting was the mascot of a college in Denver and all of the football players came crashing down on him and beat him into a bloody pulp (Kyle still didn’t know what the hell had been Cartman’s intention back then). There had been that time, Cartman had told Butters his parents had died in a car accident even though they had just been on their way to the cascades up in Boulder. The blond had been devastated, but did not shed a tear but that might have been the shock in combination with Cartman, who all but abruptly decided to use Butters’ house as a drug lab. Butters didn’t notice much because he was distracted with funeral preparations and the fact that the medical examiner couldn’t seem to find the supposedly almost burned corpses of his parents.

Kyle could go on and on with that list but he didn’t do pity well.

Nevertheless, in some way, he admired Butters.

Though Kyle would never admit that.

Ever.

However, Butters did not deserve a cheating boyfriend and as much as he loved Kenny, Kyle wasn’t sure that the perverted blonde could be the partner Butters needed and deserved.

“ _However”_ Kyle returned his attention back to the objects of his daily entertainment,  “the dumb blonde I’m about to date better be as good as that one.” Kenny again pointed towards Tammy, but Butters’ eyes remained on him.

“Golly, Kenny. Ya shouldn’t make your ex-girlfriend cheat on her current boyfriend.”

Kyle sucked in some air.

“An’ ya shouldn’t talk like that ‘bout the one ya like. If it were me I’d be really hurt.”

“For fucks sake”, Kenny cursed, clenching his fist. “You are so dumb.” With that, he left the table in a fury. Kyle couldn’t deny that he loved the desperation in Kenny’s voice whenever he talked to his almost-but-not-quite-lover.

Butters furrowed his brows, before he turned to Stan and Kyle.

“Nuhu, what was that?” he asked, confused.

“Well”, Kyle drawled with a smirk, “I’d say you better start learning.”

“Learn what?”

“Fellatio.”

“Blowjobs.”

“Give head.” the other boys at the table answered in unison, though Token looked slightly disgusted with the fact that he actually answered that question together with Clyde and Craig.

“Wh-What?! Why?” Butters squeaked, but was only rewarded with a middle finger, rolling eyes courtesy of Token and a very wide grin from Clyde.

“You know what?” Wendy suddenly interrupted their manly bonding with her excited voice and a hand slamming on their table, a sheet of paper positioned under it. “We read about a course that shows you how to give a blowjob. The girls decided to go there. You can even keep the dildo as a keepsake. For personal usage if you want so.” Stan spat out his orange juice and looked at the dark-haired girl in horror, same as Butters, which was quite funny.

“Wendy!” he yelped incredulously, but the girl just rolled her eyes.

“So, Butters, what do you say? Want to come with us, seeing as you lack experience in anything sexual related? Just like Stan when I dated him. Hope for Kyle that had changed.” She cast a skeptical look at her ex-boyfriend. “Or should we take him with us, Kyle?”

Kyle raised an eyebrow at her mocking provocation. “That’d be an excellent idea. He does lack some skill in that department.”

“Kyle!” Stan choked.

“Oh, I believe that. He never was any good with his tongue.”

“Could you two _please_ stop that!”, Stan yelled, face red and about to be buried in his hands in embarrassment. “And no, Wendy, Butters _and_ I decline!”

Kyle eyed the blonde who sat on the table, looking as confused as a few minutes ago when Kenny had left them, but face still red up to the tip of his ears, then at Wendy, who pursed her lips in a pout.

Wendy and Kyle shared a healthy love-hate relationship, based on the fact that Kyle had officially started dating Stan, when the two had been on one of their many but last break-ups somewhere around the beginning of high school. Stan had accused her of hanging on to him basically for her own benefit because she had a disgusting thing for one of his friends and he _maybe_ could have lived with the fact if it had been Kenny but _nooo_ , it had to be Eric fucking Cartman and Wendy argued that Stan wouldn’t touch her because he was a freaking closeted gay and had a boner for his ‘bestest friend’. Stan then mentioned that it was one of the reasons she had decided to stay with him, because he wouldn’t touch her unless necessary and so it went on back and forth for about three hours and a half until the two were exhausted and sat next to each other, voices raw, shoulders touching, Stan with his chin on her head. “I love you”, he had whispered and she had smiled and answered, “but only in a platonic way.” Both had hugged and then started to plan how to seduce Kyle.

Or at least that’s how they had confessed after Stan had gotten into Kyle’s pants.

Motherfuckers.

Kyle was still slightly annoyed, especially when Wendy mentions or hints on anything Stan and her _could_ have done, because, even though he _knew_ there never was more than a few innocent kisses between them, he still got incredibly jealous. And Wendy knew that.

He actually liked the dark-haired girl and he liked to talk to her on a higher educational level than he could with anyone else, the same as he liked to get drunk with his friends and still laugh immaturely at farts and barfs – but she could still be an annoying bitch sometimes.

“Is Bebe going with you”, Token asked, trying to not look as excited as he probably was.

“Bebe _suggested_ it”, Wendy answered, turning away from Stan and Kyle.

“Alright, okay, I give up”, Kenny suddenly shouted, returning to their table and plombing down beside Butters, then looked up at his friends. “Did I miss somethin’?” he asked, noticing their amused glances and how Stan and Butters tried to play ostrich and hide their heads under the tables.

“Nothing”, Token answered, continuing to eat his lunch.

“Yeah, nothing”, Wendy agreed, purposefully pushing the sheet of paper towards Kenny when she turned around to head back to the other girls. The blonde picked the pamphlet up, scanned it before slaming it down.

“We’re going.”

“Come again?”, Token answered, the only one verbally reacting while the others just gaped at the crazy blonde.

It was time, Craig probably assumed, to leave as silently as possible. He just stood up and showed everyone the middle finger. Kenny returned it, which led Craig to show both middle fingers, pointing inwards and then left the table. Token followed suit not even a few seconds later, with a petty excuse about him meeting Bebe in the janitor’s closet. Though, as experience had taught that might not be an excuse but the truth.

Clyde didn’t leave but that was probably because he assumed the word _we_ did not include him and therefore just continued to eat. Kyle didn’t knew why Token and Craig had thought the _we_ included _them_.

“I already told Wendy I’m not going”, Stan answered, tone suggesting that he did not want to press this topic any further.

“And I don’t need to”, Kyle stated, smugly.

“I beg to differ” Stan countered straight-faced.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Stop flirting”, Kenny interrupted. “We know you love each other. However,” he threw a short glance at Butters before a wide grin spread over his lips. “If you want me to, I could help you with your _studies_.”

“Excuse me”, Butters suddenly mumbled, pushing himself off the table. “I think I- uhm have to go to class.” His ears were still tinted red and he looked shyly down, when he picked his tray up to throw the leftovers into the trash can, but left the yogurt he hadn’t touched accidentally on the table.

Kenny thought it was cute when Butters tried to be subtle.

Kyle thought they were both retarded.

“Alright, now that Butters’ gone”, Kenny started, turning to them while lowering his voice. “Do you know about Butters’ birthday?”

“No”, Stan answered without a second thought.

“When is it?” Kyle asked out of faked interest.

“Monday.”

“You’ve got anything planned?”

“Of this week.” Kenny explained further.

“… as in four days ago?”

“Dude!” Stan exclaimed surprised.

“I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I”, Kenny admitted. “Tweek told me.”

“Tweek told _you_?”

“Yeah, after actually-”

“No, no, no! Hold on! _Tweek_ told _you_?!”

Kyle was honestly kind of surprised. Kenny wasn’t a bad guy, but he was frivolous, dirty-mouthed, and energetic enough, to make the crazy-haired blonde nervous enough he couldn’t stop twitching if Kenny was even one foot around and so much as _glanced_ at him. A civilized conversation was nearly impossible.

“Yeah, after _yelling_ at me how horrible of a person I am.”

Kyle blinked and Stan stopped eating.

“You see, I was going to the bathroom, when I heard the spaz pathetically apologizing to Tucker” – it was their thing to call each other by their last name, even though everybody knew that they shared some sort of strange friendship nobody wanted to exploit the depth of – “because he had to bake a cake for Butters by himself. So I asked him why they would make a cake for Bu—”

“Hold on a sec there, dude,” Kyle interrupted again. “Craig? Baking a cake? For _Butters_?”

The redhead tried to picture the other boy in the kitchen, electric whisk in one hand, holding the bowl with the dough in the other but somehow the face of the dark-haired boy was hid behind a big black censor bar.

“Yeah, get over it. And they told me that it had been Butters’ birthday last Monday and that was the point when the crazy wreck actually yelled at me that I should at least know something like that about the person I… you know.”

Kyle nodded like he understood.

Though he didn’t.

He didn’t know what it was that drewKenny towards Butters and for his own sanity, didn’t even want to know. Love was a tad difficult to understand, because Kenny never had been in love. Lust was sort of urgh… because, really, Butters! Urgh! Maybe it was something like how a prostitute _thought_ she loved her sugar daddy, because he provided her with whatever she liked, just like Butters supplied food.

Kyle watched as Kenny stored the yogurt into his kangaroo pocket, probably to share it later with his parents and siblings.

“Amatory tolerate?” Stan offered helpfully with an off-handed gesture.

“He doesn’t tolerate.”

“Well then, amatory attracted?”

Kenny shrugged in resignation and buried his head in his crossed arms on the table.

“If it helps”, Kyle started, trying to be nice. “Butters won’t care you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, he probably didn’t even imagine you remembering.” Stan seconded.

“I mean, you don’t do birthdays.”

“Yeah, you don’t even know ours and we practically grew up together.”

“That’s wrong. If you’d asked me I’d know when your birthday is, though when the day comes I don’t remember it’s that day.”

“Same thing, dude.” Stan explained.

“I still can’t believe it”

“What? You can trust me for once!”

“No, not that. How did Tweek do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get Craig to bake a cake.”

“The same way I make you stop talking, when I get a headache from you bitching about Cartman.”

“That’s it! That’s the couch for you!” Kyle growled, furrowing his brows. “What’s your problem anyway?”

“ _My_ problem is you talking to Wendy about our”, Stan’s cheeks reddened as he cast his eyes down. “Love life in front of the whole school.”

“Well, it’s you running to her whenever there is a problem between us.”

“Because you tend to be a freaking stoic asshole when I want to talk about problems to _you_.”

“Sorry I don’t wear my heart on a sleeve.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Hello? Someone with a problem here?” Kenny finally interrupted their quarrel, pointing with his hands to himself.

“I don’t see your problem”, the redhead stated dryly, glad to change the topic. “So, you forgot Butters’ birthday. Big deal. So did everyone else. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. People just don’t care about Butters’ birthday and they haven’t done so his whole life.”

Kenny looked at him with something akin to disappointment and Kyle actually felt uncomfortable under his stare.

“Well, maybe we should start caring.” Stan looked up from his task of massacring his broccoli, his voice quiet and earnest. “His birthday was Monday, right? So why not pretend we didn’t forget but wanted to celebrate on the weekend to party through the night? I think it would be good to do something nice for Butters for a change.”

Kyle and Kenny looked at the dark-haired boy; the latter raising an eyebrow in question, while the first just opened his mouth to retort.

“Fag.”

“Oh come on! You know how I mean it!”

“That’s why I called you a fag.”

“Do you have some sort of marriage quarrel going on or what?” Kenny asked, leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“Guys! Hey, hey guys!” A fourth voice suddenly yelped into their discussion and Kyle’s face scrunched in disgust when he spotted the fat bastard dashing towards their table, slaming both hands on the wooden plate. “Ya goin’ to Bebe’s party at Tokens’ on Saturday?”

“I didn’t know you were interested in parties, fat ass.”

“Am not, dirty faggot Jew. Just ‘n info an’ thos’ parties are da best source.”

“We could take Butters to that party.” Stan suggested suddenly, not even acknowledging the looming dispute between the other two boys, instead turning his attention towards Kenny. “Has he ever been to one of those?”

“I doubt it”, Kenny replied.

“Why’d you take that melvin to a party?”

“For his birthday.”

“… That had been Monday”, Cartman wrinkled his forehead in curiosity, sitting down beside Kenny who stared at him wide eyed.

“You knew?”

“Sure, have been tellin’ him for years he’s been the reason for 9/11. That sucker believed it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oi, why’d you care? Yer t’poor to celebrate. Turning into a fag yerself for this fagot? Anyway, don’t botha takin’ him to Token’s. He’d be just a mood killer fer all I know, whinin’ on ‘bout how his parents would ground him fer bein’ out late and all. Trust meh, I’d know.”

“If we’d tell Bebe about it, maybe we could act like this was planned from the beginning.” Kenny almost seemed giddy, ignoring Cartman’s helpful advice.

“Now you sound desperate.” Stan stated.

“Why do you want to do something for him anyway? I thought you were trying to avoid him.” Kyle asked.

Kenny didn’t answer, just looked down on the table, tracing the cracks in the wood with his pointing finger and Kyle knitted his brows. He couldn’t remember Kenny actually wanting to do something for one of his dates. Sure, the blonde was a great friend, he would run to their aid, cheer them up, ignoring his own pain in favor for his friends, but as great as a friend he was, he could be as bad a boyfriend after the honeymoon phase, which lasted about one to two weeks.

“Bebe’s party it is”, Kyle finally agreed anyway with a deep sigh, ignoring Kenny’s happy grin. “But it’s your task to get him there. I will talk to Bebe, maybe she can arrange something.”

“Dude, you planning on congratulating him there?” Stan asked, surprised.

“Bebe is… and hopefully it doesn’t end in an embarrassing muttering of ‘Who is Butters?’” with that said, Kyle stood up and left the table to find the curly blonde girl. If he was lucky she wasn’t yet with Token in some broom shed or closet and he could arrange everything and it could be done and over with.

He spotted the girl, when she was about to separate from her group of friends, books pressed against her chest

“Bebe, I need a favor.”

~.~.~

“You lost him?” Kyle asked disbelieving.

“Yeah, I lost him.” Kenny confirmed, looking around the room, searching the faces for an innocent dump blonde burden.

“Among the things you have told me today, this one is the most unbelievable.” Kyle paused to contemplate that statement before he shook his head. “No, the most unbelievable was when you told me you told Butters to get dressed again.” He paused. “Gross.”

“You are no help.”

The redhead didn’t answer; just let his drink swirl in his glass.

Everything was going as planned. He had told Bebe and she started to babble about how she didn’t _know_ and oh my gosh, what a fabulous idea, Kyle! She even forgot her date with Token in the janitor’s closet over her brimming excitement, and started to uninvite most people then and there, making a few cry because they probably thought they were banned from the _It_ crowd Bebe and Wendy – nerd she was – unmistakably belonged to.

As far as Kenny had told him, everything was going smooth on his part too – to a certain point of time.

He went to fetch Butters, climbed the tree in front of the blonde’s window and saw the boy practically naked, changing to his sleeping wear. Kyle, knowing Kenny, could imagine how much his friend probably had to restrain himself to knock on the window instead of continuing to watch his own nude show. After telling Butters to get dressed again, answering to the question “Why” because they were going out and stopping every protest of “But my parents” and “What if” and “I don’t think” beforehand by turning around so Butters could get dressed. They left for Token’s house, walking in silence, Kenny a few feet ahead – Kyle assumed because his blonde friend was again unreasonably aggravated - a state he was in whenever Butters was near.

And right on the front porch, Kenny heard a muffled sound, turned around just to find Butters gone.

“So, how can you lose a sixteen year old boy?” Kyle asked himself, taking a swig from his glass.

“You tell me”, Kenny replied, head in his crooked arms.

“Well, you have to think positive.”

“HIV-positive?”

“That was sick”, Kyle replied dryly, but otherwise chose to ignore that statement. “You can find a better lay.”

“It’s not about sex, Kyle”, Kenny snarled enraged. “Why don’t you understand? I thought you of all people would know were I’m coming from!”

“Yeah, maybe, but let me ask you a personal question.”

“Shoot ahead.”

“Why Butters?”

Kenny glared at him. “You can be really despicable sometimes.”

“Cheer up dude. As long as it’s you, you can hook up with whoever comes in next.” Kyle said turning towards the archway, which separated the entrance hall from the living room, they were currently occupying, together with dozens of other people neither of them knew.

“You bet,” Kenny said, turning around and leaning with his back against the integrated bar.

“How much?”

“I don’t bet on that.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Fifty bucks.”

“Deal.”

“You know you are too easy, don’t you?”

Kenny didn’t even react to that statement, just eyed the archway. “The next person coming in, right?”

“Yeah, female, male, don’t care.”

“Me neither, as long as they aren’t Cartman.”

“Alright, dude, thanks for that mental image.”

Kenny smirked.

“Oh sick.” Kyle whined and then they watched in silence the entrance, Kyle taking a sip of his lousy spiced orange juice, though he needed more of that vodka to get that picture out of his head. Gross.

“Bebe doesn’t count by the way”, Kenny stated suddenly when he noticed the blonde girl heading to the front door. “Wouldn’t want Token for an enemy.”

“Whatever.”

They watched as Bebe left the living room. They couldn’t see the front door from their spot and Kenny tried to crane his neck to get at least a glimpse of the newcomers but soon gave up, as he apparently couldn’t get anything.

“Taking their sweet time, don’t they?” The blonde mumbled impatiently, when Bebe entered the room again without company.

 “She sent them away?”

“Had done that a lot today”, Kenny voiced, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah, she said she didn’t want any assholes for ‘Butters’ party’.” He looked at the garland above his head that read “Happy birthday, gorgeous” in multicolor metallic colored letters.

And that was, when Stan entered the room.

“Hell yes!” Kenny whooped, before Kyle could even process.

“Hell _no_!” Kyle barked, but the grin on his friend’s lips only widened.

“Speaking of dreams coming true.”

“No, dude! The next person, you hear me!”

“Spoilsport.”

“Keep your hands of him.”

“You know,” Kenny started, voice serious, while they watched Stan scanning the room, probably looking for them. “When it comes to Stan, you are strangely possessive. It’s not like he would cheat on you.” When the dark-haired boy spotted the two at the bar, he smiled brightly at them, then looked to the entrance hall and gestured at someone to come in. “If it were me, I would be far to frightened of you. Hell hath no fury like a Broflovski scorned, you know?”

Kyle ignored Kenny, as Stan frowned at the entrance hall before he left the living room again. “What’s he doing?”

Kenny only shrugged. “Getting me my fifty bucks, I guess.”

And that’s how Stan dragged in Butters.

“Hell yes!” Kyle whooped, scaring the shit out of the guy next to him, who expected the redhead to empty his drink in his lap.

“Hell _no_!” Kenny cried desperately.

“Talking of dreams coming true.”

“Dude! That’s not funny!”

„Don’t be a spoilsport.“

“I can’t just go and snog _Butters_.”

“You can do with others.”

“But they aren’t _Butters_.”

Kyle watched his friend out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head due to the ambiguous behavior. Kenny wasn’t complex in his love affairs. If he liked them, he would date them. Period. The problem with Butters was that he liked him even though he didn’t want to, resulting in him being aggravated 24/7, pushing Butters away, which made him feel guilty and try to do something nice, for which he hated himself even more and God, this could be funny if it wasn’t so freaking annoying.

“Hey guys”, Stan greeted them, still holding Butters’ hand.

“Who’s birthday is it”, Butters stuttered, avoiding to look at Kenny. “I-I don’t think I’m invited.”

“It’s alright, Butters,” Stan assured with a warm smile.

“Didn’t Bebe see him at the front porch?” Kyle addressed his question towards his friend, who shook his head in response. “Bebe opened the door, started flirting, I sent her away and when I was about to close the door he all but fell into my arms.”

Kyle smacked his hand to his forehead. “So much for a surprise.”

“Where have you been?” Kenny asked annoyed.

“I-I-uhm-Eric wanted to ta-talk ta me.”

“About what?”

“He said I was a persona non grata or somethin’ like dat. Said I’d ruin the party an’—”

“We get it”, Kyle interrupted, searching the crowd for that fat bastard. “I don’t understand what that guy is scheming again. Just ignore what he said”, he smiled reassuring at the blonde. “And you owe me big time” he addressed at Kenny, then left to find the Queen of intoxicating parties.

As experience proved, Token’s house was really impractical when it came to finding people. The first time he had been in the villa he got lost in the hedge maze together with Kenny, who was eaten alive by a monster calling the botanic labyrinth its home.

The second time he accidentally stumbled into the adult playroom and, gross, he didn’t need to know _that_ about anyone’s parents. Why didn’t they _lock_ that stupid room?

For further visits Kyle had demanded that Token gave him the blueprints of his home to avoid any of these accidents and mapped the layout in his head. However, that didn’t make finding someone any easier besides that he could now find his way back and avoid any of the rooms marked by Token – with the comment of ‘You might like to avoid those places’.

He finally found Bebe in the kitchen, sitting on the centered kitchen neck, staring out the window and probably listening to the muffled bass of the music.

“He’s here”, Kyle said upon entering, noticing that the kitchen had their third new coating of the year.

“You think Token would be thrilled if he heard I was pregnant?” the blonde girl replied off-topic.

“… That explains why you’re still sober at,” he glanced at his watch, “quarter pass nine.”

“Asshole. I’m serious.”

“Me too.”

Bebe hopped off the kitchen counter, turning towards Kyle. “I shouldn’t have asked you.”

“Seriously, I don’t know why you are worrying about something like that. Are you stupid? That guy loves you. It’s disgusting how much”, Kyle explained. “The only thing you have to worry about is how he would turn into a complete mother hen as soon as he hears about it. Trust me, that Token looks like the kind of guy that either gets pregnant _with_ you or won’t allow you to do _anything_. He will probably get you a wheelchair immediately, and god forbid you carry your own books to classes. He will either do it himself or pay someone to do it. Now, can we get back to Butters?”

“Didn’t Kenny lose him?”

“Yeah, and Stan found him. So, up you go.”

“I can’t. I have to wait for Wendy and Token.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow in question and contemplated asking further or just let the topic be.

“Wendy thought a birthday cake might be a good idea, and Token said he knew a bakery in Denver but they haven’t arrived yet. Maybe in half an hour or so.” She sighed, fumbling with a strand of her hair. “It never occurred to me to ask Butters when his birthday is. Strange, don’t you think so?”

“Not as strange as you telling me suddenly you are pregnant, which you probably are not.”

“I thought I was.” Bebe confessed. “I was about to have a nervous breakdown, when I didn’t get my period.”

“Sick, Bebe!”

The girl just started to laugh, and Kyle though he might have heard her muttering something about his sexuality but he wasn’t about to explore that topic further, instead just motioned the girl that he would leave the kitchen. She soon picked up on his gesture and approached him, still grinning.

“You know.” Kyle started when they entered the crowded living room, pressed together on their shoulders. “If you were pregnant, you’ve got friends you can talk to. Wendy, Clyde… me…”

“Softie”, was all she answered as she bumped their shoulders together and then headed in a different direction, winking at and yelling someone’s name he didn’t recognize. Kyle was not comfortable in big crowds and used to avoid them at all cost. During High School he had to get used to parties, bodies rubbing against his and girls he didn’t knew hanging over him for whatever reason – mostly because they were dead drunk and couldn’t stand and Kyle unfortunately was standing next to them when their legs would give in.

He made his way through the dancing teenagers, pushing a guy hard against the shoulder when that inconsiderate asshole wasn’t even thinking about making way for him and blocked the open doorframe with him hanging on his girlfriend’s lips. Though, if the fuss that broke loose after he had gotten past the boy was any indication that girl hadn’t been _his_ girlfriend.

Kyle snatched a few beers from a guy holding bottles up, and then returned to his friends. Stan was still holding Butters hand and the blonde was still trying to vanish behind the freetime-sports-player-and-stand-in-for-whichever-team-needed-one. The redhead wasn’t sure whether he should be worried or annoyed, but seeing as that melvin was doing the Tweek and looked around like he expected a murderer jumping out behind the couch, he could overlook the fact that Stan was acting like a mother hen.

Especially considering that that murderer was probably Cartman.

Kenny on the other end eyed the clutched hands with distrust, arms crossed in front of his chest. Obviously everything but pleased but at least making an effort in not showing it on his face.

“If you don’t stop, it’ll stay that way,” Kyle claimed, throwing him a bottle, which Kenny caught with practiced ease. He didn’t even think about offering Butters one and Stan was known for keeping as far away from that stuff as possible since his last encounter that had unwittingly made him star of a homemade internet porn video. And a bad one at that.

“You want one?” Stan asked the blonde, who had eyed Kenny opening his bottle with the lighter but turned away as soon as he heard the question, shaking his head. “A coke or orange juice?” Stan tried again.

“A glass of milk maybe?” Kyle suggested sweetly.

“Am fine, thank you.”

Besides the part of Butters whining about his parents going to ground him, Cartman’s prediction had been pretty accurate. By now, Stan would be usually on the dance floor together with Kenny instead of taking care of a little kid. Kyle on the other hand would wander the house and look for interesting books or find something else to do. Everything was better than him on the dance floor. Not even Kenny or Stan’s lead could make a difference, which was one of the reasons he usually stayed home when Stan and Kenny went to parties. He mostly felt out of place and bored and getting smashed wasn’t something he called his hobby since the first and last time, that had not only left him with a painful headache but had taken his virginity as well, without any kind of memory but a video that was all over the internet the next day.

Talking about decent coming-outs.

Fucking cola-whisky mixture.

All in all, Kyle hadn’t only lost his way, and friends in that house, but his virginity, too.

What was that villa? The freaking Rose Red Manor or what?

Kyle rolled his eyes, remembering his mother’s uproar and his father’s apathy and all the people posting helpful advice under the comments on Youtube; such as “OMG, use some lube, dude!” or “Oh, that must’ve been painful.”

“Hey guys!” a loud voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked up from the bottle he had been staring at. He barely spotted Bebe near the plasma TV, sticking out the crowd as if she was standing on a chair, holding a microphone in one hand. “Oi shut up!” She yelled, the microphone screeched, and the crowd tuned it down. “Someone I share a special relationship with has turned sixteen last week!”

Kyle knew what kind of ‘special relationship’ the girl was talking of.

They have been growing up together, more or less been through so much shit together. Sure, they fought, they quarreled, they insulted each other but that just resembled the relationship he shared with his brother. The South Park kids didn’t hang out as much together as back in their elementary school years but there was a strong bond between them, not because they knew each others darkest secrets, but because they had memories together and those memories made Bebe squeal with joy when Kyle mentioned Butters’ birthday. Those memories made them look out and care for each other, even if some haven’t talked to each other for over a year. One call and they would be there, standing by your side whatever it was.

They could even talk to Kevin who had left South Park a few years ago, who had never sent a letter, and left without a second word; because who else could understand them better than someone who was used to the craziness of South Park and as fucked up as them due to their hometown?

There weren’t that many people, whose parents tried to rebuild the arch of Noah and than fought about who was allowed on the arch, almost killing half of the adult population, while their kids watched in annoyance and decided they would let them just kill each other and dismiss all the talk about flooded sewers and South Park soon swamped by masses of shit, literally. If that didn’t make you connect, what did?

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t know.” Way to honest Bebe. “But those guys over there”, she pointed towards them and a few people turned their heads but most just wanted the music to start again, “pointed it out. So, let’s use this party to congratulate him all. Let’s give a loud cheer for Butters!”

There was a loud uproar of congratulation cheers, Kyle was pretty sure that everybody tried to figure out who Butters was and where the hell did he stand? so they could pretend to know him and at least clap in his direction, and Bebe dashed towards the surprised blonde and embraced him in a tight hug.

Butters however just froze, hand still held by Stan.

Kyle was getting irritated.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Bebe wished and the crowd behind her suddenly parted and made way for Wendy and Token, both holding a cake, decorated with a few candles and Butters’ name.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too over the top?” Kenny whispered in Kyle’s ear, leaning to his side.

“Dude, it’s Token. Everything he does is over the top.”

“Happy birthday Butters”, Wendy said, but Butters couldn’t even get a word out, just stared at the cake dumbstruck, before he turned towards Kenny, who looked to anywhere but him.

“Did-did you know?” he asked.

“His idea”, Kyle stated, saving them the trouble of dreadful minutes of denying, stuttering and then yelling and what else their conversation usually consisted off.

“I – I…”

“Butters”, Wendy said warmly, smiling at the shy blonde. “Just say thank you.”

He looked at her, before he cast his eyes down. “Gosh, this is really. I…” Stan squeezed his hand, and Butters at least tried to make an effort. “Thank you all. I have never… even with my name” Wendy stopped his babbling with a sudden hug, leaving the weight of the cake only on Token’s hands who could barely avoid a disaster.

“I just saw that cake on the floor”, Stan mumbled and the other two nodded in unison.

After Butters had blown out the candles on the cake and someone yelled that they now should start with sack race and egg and spoon race **-** Kyle just _hoped_ the retard was being sarcastic - the music started again and Wendy dragged Butters towards the dance floor through the crowd of rowdy teenagers, who patted the blonde on the shoulder, winked at him, or simply congratulated him, even though, Kyle was sure none of them have noticed him before.

“Was there a reason for _that_?” Kyle asked as soon as they were left alone, to no one special, but Stan still took up on the innuendo and just shrugged. “Dude, he was shaking like a leaf and scared as hell.”

“Just asking”, Kyle replied simply, taking Kenny’s hand and dragging him to the far end of the room, where a few kids had gathered around the pool table.

“Do I have to become your revenge?” Kenny asked in a bored tone, leaving the empty bottle on someone’s table.

“You are not my revenge. Stan’s just horrible at pool billiard and I feel like playing. It was a mutual understanding when we both decided that Stan was never to play again as long as he hasn’t taken at least a few lessons.”

“Not cool, dude.”

“Neither are you.”

“Charming, now aren’t we?”

“Always the gent.”

Kyle wasn’t the best player by far, no pro material, but he was fairly good with the cue. He was surprised himself after playing it a few times with Craig and Clyde, but found it soon self assuring, seeing as he lacked skill in all the sports Stan aced in.

On Kyle’s part, it was just a question of arithmetic and math.

‘I’m bad at math’, had been Stan’s defense back then.

‘That’s why you are bad at pool’, had been Kyle’s plain answer.

Stupid as it was, it was painful to watch Stan play pool billiard. He would either destroy the fabric of the table, shoot the balls across the room, or nearly gouge somebody’s eyes out. Kenny on the other hand beat Kyle on a regular basis, because he was a freaking jack-of-all-trades. There was nothing the blonde _couldn’t_ do, just the things he decided he didn’t _want_ to do.

Kenny was pushing some random guys to the side and grabbed their cues, threw one to Kyle and scared the shit out of another upper classman who previously eyed him with suspicion but than fled the table as soon as Kenny threw him a dirty glare.

“Dude, your reputation is really down the drain.”

“If I had to decide between a walking cheat sheet or a rough, drunken down, drug addicted bad ass I’d chose the latter.”

“At least when people see me, they don’t hide themselves in their own locker.”

“No, they just push you in that locker.”

“Asshole.”

“Prick.”

“Butters lover.”

“That was low.”

“That was true.”

“Mine too and I didn’t stoop that low.”

Kyle smiled, when he set the cue down.

Inane chatter and name-calling was sometimes the best therapy against aggressions and Kenny was one of a few that actually got involved into verbal abuse and liked to fight back. Cartman did too, but with that fat ass everything turned serious soon.

Kyle wanted to have fun, not wonder about why the fuck Stan was holding Butters like it was the only thing keeping him in place.

It was bugging him more than he liked to admit.

For God’s sake it was _Butters_.

Everybody who wanted to have a sexual relationship with that baby face was a sick pervert.

 _Kenny_ was a sick pervert, yes.

But not Stan.

 

Kyle couldn’t tell how long he had let Kenny beat the shit out of him and he didn’t really care, he just thought it was the right time to stop, when some drunken girl tipped out her Heineken over Kenny’s black tight-fitted shirt he usually hid under his brown hoodie, which he had put to the side when he noticed that Kyle was better at that game than he had expected.

The drunken brunette winked at Kenny seductively but he just dismissed her with a bored gesture, stole the bottle off her hand and emptied the rest himself before he started for the bar.

Kenny was clingy when he was drunk and Kyle didn’t want to be the literal pillar of support through the night, so he threw someone the cue and left to find whatever there was to find. Whether it was alcohol, food, books, or Stan.

Instead of the favorite four he found Butters, sitting on the edge of a couch, knees bent and body tilted to the opposite side of a couple making out beside him. Kyle sighed, before he opted for his semi-friend and pushed the obnoxious girls off the couch.

“Show some class, man”, he said, nudged one of the girls against the leg and as he had her attention, pointed to the upper floor. “Third room to the right. Make sure the web cam is turned off; otherwise you will find your video all over the Internet. I’m talking out of experience.”

God forsaken cola-whisky.

One of the girls smiled devilishly before she snatched the hand of her girlfriend and pulled her up the stairs.

“How’s it going, Butterpie”, Kyle asked, when he dropped down beside the blonde, keeping enough distance so that the boy could finally get comfortable on the couch.

“I… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he confessed.

The redhead didn’t answer, just leaned himself forward, elbows leaning on his knee and chin cupped in one hand as he spotted Stan on the dance floor with Wendy.

That guy was so going to sleep on the couch tonight.

“How so?” he asked, turning his face finally towards the blonde.

“I’m really thankful and that cake was really delicious but I-uhm don’t know half the people here.”

“Trust me, about eighty percent don’t know you, too.” And the twenty that did, were the people that bullied him on a regular basis, wherefore Kyle wasn’t surprised when Butters more or less had jumped to the side when they wanted to greet him in their drunken condition. They belonged to those people that would congratulate him, just to give him a present, that turned out to be a skirt in which they would let him parade around high school. That was, in _only_ that skirt.

That happened before.

Kyle didn’t know why none of them regarded Butters as a South Park kid even though they were constantly beaten to a bloody pulp by none other than über-badass Kenny McCormick and his partner in crime, Craig Tucker.

Actually, there was an unwritten law in their high school.

_Don’t mess with South Park kids._

That law had been established generations before them and continued down to the youngsters.

There was only a slight diversion from their generation and that was the add-on:

_Because you don’t want to mess with Eric Cartman._

Wendy was known in high school for being school president and for not only being smart but also nice and cute. Bebe was known because she couldn’t get rid of that obstinate rumor of her being easy and doing it with everyone in school. Stan was fairly famous because of his sports – whatever it was he decided to play at the moment.

However, Cartman was known by _everyone_. There had been cases of kids moving away and changing their names to get away from that personified evil, because they had rubbed him the wrong way.

Their current principal was already counting the days until Cartmans’ graduation, while his predecessor quit barely a month into their first year at high school, because he couldn’t handle the bastard’s manipulation.

You just don’t want to mess with Eric Cartman.

However, Cartman was oblivious to the subtle tricks and bullying Butters had to endure, or at least pretended to be, and Butters would never tell on someone, which was the reason that even Kenny only noticed about one third of what they were doing to him.

“Yeah, that too,” Butters admitted and looked down on the coke he clutched in his hands, drawing the attention back to him. “But I don’t know what I’m s’posed ta do.”

“You should just have fun. Don’t worry about anything, the girls just wanted to do it, is all.”

“Bebe said it was Kenny’s idea.”

“Practically.”

Kyle noticed the blue eyes flicker towards Kenny, who was currently engaged in a drinking competition, cheered on by other teenagers.

“Let me ask you something”, he started, startling the blonde for a second. “Who do you like?”

“I uhm, like everyone”, Butters answered, blushing.

“So you like Cartman?”

Butters dropped his gaze. “I don’t hate him… much…”

“What about me and Stan?”

“I like you both, but...”

“But?” he probed, making Butters cringe.

“I-I like Stan a bit more.”

Kyle frowned and even felt a bit insulted. Until he realized that that answer was probably justified. He wasn’t an annoying goody-goody like Stan for sure and since he found out about Butters and Kenny he had become worse in teasing the stupid blondes.

“What about Wendy?”

“Wendy is a really good friend and she helps me with my homework. But she can be scary at times. So I guess, I like her a lot?”

“Kenny?”

He watched as the eyes of the blonde lit up and reflexively flickered to the drunk, who started to built a beer pyramid of the cans he had emptied in that stupid contest which he was about to win as far as Kyle could see.

“I guess, I-I like Kenny more than Stan.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow and contemplated, whether he should whack that fucker over the head for that answer.

“You trying to make me angry?”

Butters eyes widened. “No! I-why would I? I uh, know I shouldn’t like Kenny that much, but I think it can’t be helped and you know, I know that he would never want to be my friend anyways, but then you tell me that he organized that” he spread his arms to emphasize the ‘that’, “I-I kinda get my hopes up that maybe he likes me a little but-but the next day he treats me like I wasn’t there and I don’t complain because I’m used ta that and all an-and Tweek tells me he’s a good-for nothin’, and that I one day will end in jail, where people will rape me and then ah – but I don’t believe that, I mean it’s Tweek, ya know? An’ I think that Kenny’s a great guy and works hard in school and at his part time and I think it’s great how he shares with his family. I-I can understand why he wouldn’t want to be my friend, I’m not cool like you and Stan—”

“Dude, you’re head over heels.” Kyle stated, mainly to quell that nonsense rambling.

“Wh-what?”

“Just analyzing.“

Butters fell silent and just stared at his coke. When Kyle thought the conversation was over, he heard him whisper, so faint he wasn’t even sure whether he had imagined it.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Butters looked up with an earnest look. “Yes. I like Kenny. A lot.”

“Don’t tell me, I know that. I thought _you_ didn’t know”, Kyle answered, leaning back against the cushion of the couch, spotting Stan now dancing with Bebe and that asshole had even the audacity to bat his eyelashes at him.

“Does Kenny know, too?”

That made Kyle actually laugh and he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Stan raised an eyebrow in question.

“I doubt it. …  You intent to tell him?”

Butters looked up again. “I … no. No.”

Kyle only shrugged. That was to be expected seeing as Kenny was completely ambivalent when it came to Butters and that made him crueler than even Cartman. At least with Cartman Butters knew where he stood. With Kenny, Butters never knew whether the blonde wanted to embrace him in a tight hug or throttle him with bare hands. Kenny probably wasn’t sure either.

Butters yawned, and Kyle saw his chance to fled that boring party. “You want to head home?” He asked, standing up from the couch, extending his hand towards the blonde.

“What about the party?”

“The party will survive without us. Most of the people are already dead drunk and I would like to be home before they decided it would be fun to puke all over each other.”

Butters hesitated, before he took the offered hand and let himself be helped up.

They both headed through the crowd towards the entrance hall, when Butters suddenly stopped. “What about Kenny and Stan?”

“Don’t care,” Kyle answered. Kenny was a big boy and Kyle had to spike a couch with needles before that boyfriend of his came home.

“Shouldn’t we at least ask?” Butters stuttered. “Or… or tell them that we are leaving?”

“Dude, just tell me when you’re jealous, for fucks sake!” Stan suddenly intruded on their conversation, emerging out of the mass made of bodies. “You always have to play the freaking Drama queen, don’t you?”

“Oi! You wanna leave?” Kenny shouted across the room, cutting his way through the crowd of dancing teenagers, getting rid of a guy that dared to grab his ass.

That guy would be dead meat tomorrow if he dared to cross Kenny’s path again, Kyle assumed.

“Yeah, it’s late and little Butterbean has to watch The Sandman else he can’t sleep”, the redhead explained. “So I offered to bring him home and tuck him away safely in his bed. I will even check under his bed for monsters, so you go and have your fun.”

“I will bring him home”, Kenny stated.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea”, Kyle answered hesitantly, eyeing the dirty blonde haired boy.

“Why not?” Kenny demanded.

Because Kenny was a clingy drunk; he was a touchy, seductively and all over _honest_ drunk. The qualms he had when sober about touching Butters were certainly lost when intoxicated.

“You are drunk.” Stan finally answered.

“I’m not drunk. Maybe mellow.”

“Dude, you won that drinking contest!”

“Because the other guy’s a pussy, Stan.”

“I will not let two drunken guys go home together.”

“I’m not drunk.” Butters defended himself.

“You are”, Kyle argued back.

“Nuhuhno, I only had coke and orange juice.”

“Trust me Butters, you are. You just don’t know.” Kyle explained as if talking to a little child. If he would just suggest it long enough, the blonde would eventually buy it and by the way, he probably wasn’t lying. There was no non-alcoholic coke and orange juice on these kinds of parties so Butters must be a least tipsy.

“It’s alright, Kyle”, Kenny eventually said, hugging Butters shoulder with one arm. “I’ll bring him home.”

The redhead frowned, before he shrugged. “Don’t come crying to me.”

Kenny just shrugged and the four of them got dressed and parted at the crossing a few feet from Token’s house. Butters bid them goodbye, nervously eyeing Kenny’s hand in his – for not getting lost again – and Kyle just turned around and headed his way, followed by Stan who soon caught up to his level, blowing his hot breath into his hands.

“It’s freaking cold.”

“It’s freaking South Park”, Kyle retorted.

“If you are pissed then tell me. Don’t be a sissy.”

“I’m not pissed.”

“Sure. I can just imagine you coming up with a hundred of ways to make that disgusting couch even more uncomfortable.”

“Maybe water. I could lie to you and tell you, it’s just pee.”

“Oh come on! I was nine!”, Stan fret. “I don’t pee in pools anymore! And I _wash_ my hands before I leave the restroom, for gods sake! So stop checking the towel every time I leave!”

“Or maybe thumbtacks.”

“Alright, I get it, so you _are_ angry!”

Kyle didn’t answer.

“So what? You jealous about Butters? Or me dancing with Wendy?”

“Why should I?”

“Stop. Being. So. Fucking. Passive aggressive!” Stan yelled, stopping Kyle with an arm around his stomach. “You know, I’d really wish you would talk to me.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“The hell there is!”

“It’s not your problem that I turn into a _sissy_ and get angry about something stupid like you dancing with your ex.”

“You don’t want to dance. And I _like_ Wendy! There was a reason we were dating for so long!”

“I guess there was.”

Stan took his arm from Kyle’s stomach and rubbed his hands against the fabric of his pants. “Why is it that you are always so distant about everything? I’ve been your best friend for years and we haven’t fought as much as we are doing right now. You don’t want me to kiss you in public, I’m not even allowed to touch you. You don’t even want to talk to me about important stuff anymore. Before we started dating we could talk about everything and I could always touch you.” Stan stopped and turned his head away, trying to hide his blush. “That is, I don’t want to touch or kiss you nonstop or so. I mean, I do want to touch you and fantasize about you in class or—” Kyle could feel his face heating up. “That is, I don’t do _that_ very often. Maybe when I see you in PE but it’s not like I get the urge to just drag you in some random closet very often. I mean—”

“Dude!”

“I can’t help it!” Stan defended himself desperately. “I’m not affectionate but it would be nice to not have a book thrown in your face just because you want to kiss your boyfriend once in a while!”

“I don’t throw books at you!”

“Of course you do! Remember that one time in the library, when no one was around and I just leaned over and you pushed your history book in my face because ‘there might be cameras around’? Or that one time, when I just _mentioned_ that I would like to kiss you and you threw a pen at me? Dude, a _pen_?”

“That’s because you make me act stupid!”

Stan blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Of course I have to! Don’t you realize? We will never stop fighting if you can’t talk to me! Get over your freaking complex and just tell me, for fucks sake.”

Kyle bit his lower lip, crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Stan waited a few seconds, before he turned around. “Alright, keep to yourself.” he growled, throwing his hands in the air. “See if I care.”

Kyle hesistated until he noticed that Stan really wasn’t going to turn around again. He watched his back, the bare hands balled to fist, while the dark-haired boy tried to keep them warm with rubbing them against his pants.

The red-head let his arms fell to the side, helpless.

“If you kiss me I want to kiss you back.”

Stan stopped and Kyle didn’t know where to keep his hands.

“And if I do,” he continued, lowering his gaze to the grey pavement of the side walk, “I will skip through school like a deluded crack addict on meth. It’s not that I don’t want to touch you but if you do I don’t want you to stop and—I can’t believe you made me say that!” Stan finally turned around and Kyle pressed his lips together, spotting the satisfied smirk on the others lips. “Stop grinning like a lunatic, Stan Marsh!”

But the boy just started to approach him again.

“You’re cute.”

“Don’t say that!”

“I love you.”

“Don’t _say_ **_that_**!”

As Stan reached the other, he just leaned forward, giving Kyle a peck on the cold, red cheeks.

“Stan!”

Then on the lips.

“I mean it!”

“Want to continue on that disgusting couch? You get the cola and I get the whisky?”

Kyle pressed his lips together, before he gave a resignated sigh. “I hate you…” He mumbled, lips in a pout, but started to walk again, Stan by his side. “You know, I think Kenny and Butters do fit each other”, he suddenly said, touching Stan’s arm with his gloved hand and then pulling his cold bare hand into his pocket.

The dark haired boy looked at the clasped hands, before he smiled warmly. “How come?”

“Because they are both stupid.” Kyle simply answered, squeezing the hand. “Just like us.”

~~~

Kyle looked at Kenny, face hid in his crossed arms on the table, a disturbing smirk on his face, while Butters had asked a girl in the back to change seats upon entering their math class and now sat as far away from Kenny as possible. Kyle leaned against the windowsill, arms akimbo, while Stan pinched the base of his nose.

“So you did what?” he asked, rotating his hand to coax the answer out, though Kenny couldn’t see that.

“I jumped in front of an oncoming truck.” They heard the muffled answer through the arms and Kyle’s smirk only widened.

“I’m dead earnest“ Kenny whispered, now looking up to his friends. “Why Butters?”

“Well…” was all Kyle answered, before he saw Ms. Abel walking into their classroom. “Because you are both stupid.” He finished, then headed to his seat leading Stan, who couldn’t stop pinching the base of his nose, to their places.

 


	4. Craig Tucker

“Why Butters?”, Kenny sighed, snuffing the butt of his cigarette to the dirt, grinding it into the soft ground with the tip of his heavy black, high-cut boots.

Craig just took a drag of his cigarette, inhaling with suspicious satisfaction the taste of the forbidden.

“Dude,” the dark-haired boy breathed and it was sort of sexy how husky Craig’s usually smooth and cool voice sounded. “Why Tweek?”

Kenny watched the other boy enjoinying his smoke, something Tweek has forbidden him, while rambling on about cancer and governmental conspiracy and “Think about me, man!” Craig eventually stopped smoking – at least, when his boyfriend was anywhere close. That’s why the dark-haired boy, as much as he loved Tweek, enjoyed the days the spaz would hide in his closet because of Oncoming Threats of Whatever.

“Let’s call it even”, Kenny mumbled eventually, watching the slightly chapped lips mold into a  pleased smile, humming in agreement.

Damn, that boy was hot when getting off.


	5. Tweek Tweak

Not surprisingly, South Park citizens were used to grow up in the cold. But there were times, when even the winter seemed colder, when the kids would do everything to hide under a warm blanket with a hot chocolate in the hand instead of playing in the snow, their noses red and running.

And Tweek, for a matter of fact, would hide under his bed, watching the cutting wind blowing the branches of the trees in front of his window with a stack of approximately twenty-two plus one blankets, a gas heating, three hot-water bags, a ration of food for about a month stacked in his closet and an unknown number of any form of lighter and matches stolen from Craig and, of course, an uncountable number of thermoses filled with coffee.

Of course.

That was Tweeks routine when South Park was waiting for an oncoming blizzard.

Just like today.

But _some_ stupid wanker just had to decide to do fucking charity work.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this for that… that manwhore!”

“Don’t call Kenny that.”

“Dude, it’s the freaking beginning of a fucking blizzard! I’ve got better things to do than help that notorious nympho. What’s he going to do, huh? Bone you as a way of thanks, or what?”

“I wish.”

“No you don’t”, Tweek replied firmly, hoping his hands wouldn’t freeze off. He was of the stern opinion that this might not be a very good thing to happen for his future life and career – whatever it was going to be; he hadn’t decided yet.

“I’m not the nice neighbourhood boy”, Butters defended himself, though his voice was shaking and barely audible over the bleak, blowing wind that made that unbearable cold even more intolerable. His face was hid behind the hood of his parka, his rubber boots almost to the rim sunken in the white snow.

“Yes, you are.”

“I… I do this for myself”, Butters tried again but Tweek wasn’t buying that shit. His hands were clasped around the string of a sleight that was loaded with woods he had stolen from his father’s shed.

“That was your favorite doll house”, the spasming blond pointed out, his hand unable to show exactly what he was talking about. He wasn’t going to remove it from the warm shelter that was his pocket just to prove a point. “And the thing beneath looks like one of your old cupboards, if I’m not mistaken.”

“So what?”

“So what? So what? You are a fool, that’s so what!” Tweek gave Butter’s slide a once over, rolling his eyes and then continued his disturbingly long way to Kenny McCormick’s almost but not quite sort of garden shed house, wading through unreasonable and even for South Park’s standards unbelieveable high masses of snow. “I can’t believe I agreed to this. I even stole some of our wood. What if the electricity goes off and our heater won’t work anymore and then we have to rely on our wood and _then_ we don’t have enough and it will be my fault because I was so nice to give someone I totally don’t agree with some of our’s and I hope, I’m so going to heaven for this. Oh no! I will end up in Hell because I killed my parents! Butters! I will end up in Hell just because of you!”

“We will meet there, then”, Butters replied, one hand on his hood to avoid it blowing off.

“I’m probably not going to heaven, anyway” Tweek suddenly realized, staring at the white masses in horror. “That fucker made me a homo. The fatass told me they were going to hell because God hates them and all.”

“You’re not going ta hell ‘cause you’re a homosexual.” Butters rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If ya do, probably more ‘cause of that ‘Giraffe’ thingy.”

“What? … Who told you?!” Tweek yelped, grabbing the hem of the other boys parker. “I bet it was That Brat. I told Craig she is a spy, but _nooo_ , does he listen to me? Just because she’s his little sister she can’t be a spy? As if!”

“Relax, Tweek. Craig told me.” Butters answered, removing the hand from his parker so they could move on and be back home before the blizzard would hit them with full force – whenever that may be.

“Why? I mean, why would you even _talk_ to each other?”

Butters face was beet red because of the cold wind directly blowing in their faces, so Tweek was surprised when he noticed his face could turn even redder.

“I … asked him.”

“What question would lead to _that_ topic?”

“I asked him ‘bout… uhm, ya know, _that_.”

“What? Kinks?”

“NO! I mean, not directly, I mean—”

“Roleplay?”

“TWEEK! NO! I asked about …sex… _gay sex_.” – the last statement spoken under his breath. Poor, shy Butters. He couldn’t even fathom the stress the boy had to go through to ask Craig about something like that.

“Why,” Tweek started, trying to keep his breath steady and his voice from hyperventilating, “would _you_ ask _my_ boyfriend about _gay sex_?”

“Who else should I talk to?”

“I don’t know! Somebody else?!”

“How could I? I thought Craig was the only one who wouldn’t laugh at me. D’ya know what he did? Nothin’! He jest looked at me and then told me everythin’ I wanted ta know… an’ more. … Without crackin’ a smile or any hint of amusement. Jest like totally emotionless.”

“Yeah, that part really turns me on, too…”

“What?”

“Joking.” Tweek sighed, rubbing his temple. “See, couldn’t you have asked Mister Nice Guy?”

Butters frowned, stopping for a moment to rub his gloved hands together. “Stan talks ta Kyle ‘bout everythin’ an’ Kyle is, ya know, Kyle.”

“Then what about that male prostitute?”

“Would ya stop callin’ Kenny names?”

Tweek rolled his eyes. “No, I was really talking about that one prostitute on Main Street.”

“What prostitute?” Butters asked, clearly slightly unnerved from that line of conversation.

“That guy your father caught you flirting with.”

“I did _not_ —wait, that was a _prostitute_? I thought they were only female!”

Tweek gaped at him, before he shook his head. “Butters, I’m really surprised you made it this far in life.”

“There are lot of things, _I_ am surprised ‘bout _ya_.”

“Like what?”

“Like Craig’s influence on ya.”

Tweek furrowed his brows.

 

Not surprisingly, Tweek had been the type to hide under his blanket.

Not surprisingly, Butters had been the type to pat that blanket.

Butters had been the type to sit still, idly waiting for the other blond to stop shaking and cursing and struggling. He would wait, sometimes for hours, watching the branches of the trees in front of the house throwing dark shadows on the ceiling; he would think of stories arising from those dancing shadows and would tell them to Tweek.

At first, Tweek would yell at him to stop talking nonsense.

But Butters would continue, talking about cute little fairies and dragons hiding beneath the creaked shadows.

Tweek would yell at him to stop making up stupid childish stories.

Butters would talk about the dragons being slaughtered by a fearless hero, emerging from a lonely leaf still hanging on the bare branches, wildly fluttering in the wind.

Tweek would pout and tell him to shut up, though one eye would glimpse from beneath the blanket to watch the swirling shadows on his ceiling, no longer frightful but instead fascinating.

Butters wouldn’t take notice, so deep in his fairytale, wouldn’t notice Tweek slowly crawling out of his soft shell and to his side, supported by his two hands, watching the telltale dark figures, small branches turning into a galloping horse with its knight and beside him, two brave lads, frightened but still standing tall against a beast with rapacious teeth and dragon flames about to burn everything surrounding them.

The story would continue until Tweek was falling asleep on Butter’s side, blanket around his small shoulders and Butters would eventually notice and, with a slight smile, tucked the tuckered out blond into his bed.

This had first happened during their farewell trip of their last year in elementary school and had continued on into their last year of junior high. The fairies had turned into pretty girls from their school both boys thought were cute and the dragon into mean bullies they both hated.

However, the hero had remained the same.

Without ever giving the hero a name, they both had known who it was.

“Craig, of course.”

“No, it was Kenny.”

The two blonds had stared at each other for about one second before Tweek jumped off the bench, pointing one accusing finger at Butters who continued to lick on his ice pop. “You were purposely misleading me!”

“No, I was not.”

“Of course you were!”

“Tweek, I was not.” Butters emphazised every word, watching the stressed boy from the corner of his eyes but otherwise ignoring him.

 

And thus, their admittedly strange but blooming relationship had turned into a quarreling but caring friendship. It had absolutely nothing to do with Craig. Tweek always had a foul mouth. He was swearing and cursing a lot, but his stuttering and his spasms were quite in the way.

So, Tweek couldn’t talk to everyone like he did to Butters.

And Butters sure as hell wouldn’t talk to _anyone_ like he did to Tweek.

It must have been their way of saying “I care”, without exactly saying it. Or maybe it was just because they both were rather peaceful creatures, trying to avoid drama and anything that would get them into big trouble. They just couldn’t see each other as potential danger or threat.

Whatever it was, they somehow connected and had really only one topic they would constantly fight over.

That asshole Kenny McCormick.

There were a lot of things Tweek really, really hated about that sucker. One being that that motherfucker somehow, for whatever reason, just loved to stick his tongue down Craig’s throat whenever Tweek was around. The blond had the feeling that prick was only doing it to get him rilled up – they had never been on good terms.

Least since Tweek had to learn that Craig and that sex addicted nut case had their first same gender experience with _each other_. And _if_ Craig had been more a passionate person and _if_ that slut didn’t love sex as much as he did, they _might_ have regretted that incident but as it was, they just dispassionately and calmly decided they would _never_ do that again with each other - but the sex at least was good - and kept on behaving like nothing had ever happened.

Of course Craig had told Tweek about it. They hadn’t even been dating back then and Craig and the whore just wanted to try something and maybe they were drunk or stoned or both – Craig couldn’t remember – so it wasn’t that big a deal but for fucks sake, why Kenny McCormick?

Not only was that douche – there weren’t even enough words to insult that bugger with, he had to create new ones! – getting a thrill out of tormenting Tweek whenever he had a chance, no, he was the sort of best friend of his boyfriend and the crush of his sort of best friend. He couldn’t even avoid him if he wanted to, which he desperately did.

“I really hate him”, Tweek breathed, glaring at the small house that was barely visible through the snow storm. “I wish he would just drop dead.”

“That’s not funny, Tweek.”

“Wasn’t s’posed to,” Tweek answered, removing his vibrating mobil phone from his pockets. “Yes?”

Butters looked at him, before he turned his face away, sulking.

“Where the hell are you? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I’m at the McCormicks. Almost.”

There was silence on the other end. “Come again?”

“Butters here decided to help them out a bit. Say ‘Hi’ Butters.”

“Hi, Craig.”

Tweek didn’t know why Butters assumed that the other person was Craig. He was used to him and his boyfriend somehow reading his mind. He just hoped that the FBI or CIA or whatever organisation wouldn’t become aware of their talent. They would probably catch them and do strange and painful experiments on them and then—

“Tweek, stop it. I can just hear you fantasizing about stupid shit. Just stop it.”

See? There it was again.

If those FBI guys would really come to get them, Tweek would have to kill them. But then they would end up in jail and some strange guys would rape them and—

“Why do your fantasies midway always end with one of us in prison being raped? I tend to think this is quite disturbing. Or is that one of your secret fantasies? You know, I won’t mind acting that one out. Just like the one with the ‘Giraffe’.”

“Craig! Stop reading my mind!”

“You are just predictable. Anyways, I’m coming to get you.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Did you forget?”

Tweek glanced at Butters who had turned his face away, staring at the white snow, trying to look like he didn’t care about the phone call. “Forget what?”

“I told you we were going sledding.”

“… I beg your pardon?”

“Forget it. I’ll catch you at Kenny’s.” With that said, Craig just hung up and Tweek continued to stare stupidly at his cell phone.

“What’s up?” Butters asked after a moment when Tweek was still silently listening to the beeping of his phone.

“Apparently, we are going sledding.”

“Oh.” Butters said. “I think I heard Clyde talk about it. You going to put the sleights behind the car right?”

“We what?”

“They did that before, you know. With Clydes car. They would fix the sledge on the towing hitch and drive down the streets until they fall off. That way they have broken about four slides.”

“They did _what_?” Realization sunk in. “They want me to do _what_?”

“I know, I think it’s impossible with the streets and fields like that”, Butters motioned to the ridiculous masses of snow. “And then there is a blizzard on the way.”

“Forget the blizzard!” Tweek screeched. “I’m going to break my neck. Oh no! I hope they don’t want to use Craig’s car. I _hate_ that car!”

“You know, I sort of envy you.”

“Envy me? For what?”

No, really, for what?

For being the laughingstock of biology and  chemistry class? For having hypersensitive nerves that made him panic about ¾ of his life, for being a fucking coffee addict even though it makes his nerves none the better? For stuttering when he was around people he couldn’t get used to _although_ he’d known them since elementary school? For being a loud mouth even though he would really like to avoid anything remotely painful?

For what?

“You are always doing something fun.”

“You mean like the slide ride?”

“Yes.”

“You call breaking your neck fun?”

Butters just looked at him, before he turned his face away, making his way over the snowbound lawn of the McCormicks, hesitantly knocking on the door. It took a second and a third knock until they could hear noise behind the wooden door, then a yell.

“Who’s there?”

“Hey, it- it’s me, Butters. Is, uhm, Kenny there?”

Tweek stopped beside Butters, attentively watching the door as it was pried open and a boy with brown hair stuck his head out, examining them with dull eyes. “Ma, ‘s Ken’s boytoy an’ some freak o’ nature”, he yelled back into the room, finally opening the door wider to let them in.

“I, I—” Butters started but broke midsentence, glancing at Tweek.

“Didn’t think that far, did you?” he whispered, not without a hint of perverse satisfaction. Tweek was of the opinion that no amount of social help gives you anything back. Helping somebody else, especially that asshole McCormick, could only bring you some sort of random pain. He liked Butters, but really, there was a limit to anything.

“Wood.”

The dumb brunette just stared at the even dumper blond, trying to process what kind of meanings the word wood could hold. Finally, Butters hesistantly pointed to his slide.

“A dollhouse!” There was a squeal, a flurry of orange and then pain in Tweek’s left foot because the flurry of orange seemed to have a solid body that just ran pass him and jumped down in the snow. The two boys turned around to watch the squeal stop infront of the slide, a sense of nostalgic memento lingering on the back of the orange parker with the associated hood.

“I feel like nine again”, Tweek said as he watched the parker rummaging through the piles of wood stored on the slide.

“Can I have this?”, it finally asked, turning around to watch the stunned teenagers.

“Come back in th’ house”, the brunette barked, pushing the two blonds to the side to grap his sister by the hand and drag her back in.

“But the dollhouse, but the dollhouse”, she whined and Butters just followed the siblings in. So Tweek followed Butters.

“Oh, ain’t it dat timi’ boy”, Kevin’s mother said, casually crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Whad’ya want? That son o’ mine ain’t in.”

“Look! Look! That’s Stancy and that’s Kyle!” The orange parker squealed again, pushing two dolls into Butters’ face. “My brother named them!”

“I, uh, brought some wood, because I thought, uhm with it gettin’ so cold and well… An-and yeah, cu-cute dolls.”

“Aren’t they?”

The women just shrugged. “Thanks, I guess?”

Tweek was kind of overchallegend with the chaos going on, but one look around showed him that the McCormicks actually really needed something to feed their fire with. The doors to the other rooms were all closed and sealed up with what they had for cupboards. It looked like the family lived in only one room, an old and rusty grill placed in the middle, sleeping bags and some dirty, ragged blankets unfittingly neatly folded at the side.

“Where would you like it?” Butters asked politly eventhough they both knew where. There was only one corner, with not even a handful of sticks of wood. The house was cold, they probably only lit a fire as soon as it turned dark. Butters had told him their heating had been turned off a month ago - wherever he had gotten that information from - though the jerk was currently working part time to pay the next bills.

“Well, it’s an obnoxiously cold winter, for sure.” Tweek mumbled, more to himself. South Park was used to the cold, but there were some limits, honestly.

“Kenny’s on the way to fetch new one”, the girl said, when she saw Tweek’s face of disgust, totally wrong interpreted. “He wanted to buy some lignite briquette as well, but mum said to save it.”

“These briquettes aren’t—ow, what the fuck do you think you are doing?” Tweek glared at Butters, then at his foot that had been stepped on for the second time in less than ten minutes.

“Kevin! Move yer ass an’ help ‘em boys t’ get th’ wood in.”

The boy grunted in displeasure but got back to his feet and opened the door. With one swift movement, he just grabbed the cords of their sledges and howled them into the room, before he pushed the door shut again.

Interesting.

Stupid but strong.

“’Suppose we could work wit’at”, the woman said, eyeing the wooden rubbish on the floor.

“Not the dollhouse! Stancy and Kyle would like to live there! Really, they told me. And Kenny said they will marry soon and get a baby and a little pet dog so they need a bigger house!”

Yeah, Tweek could see that in the near future, too.

“Maaa! Give me that doll house!”

“Our work is done, Butters”, Tweek said, reaching for Butters arm to lead him out of the house.

“Yeah, we’ll be on our way again”, the blond second, following the others lead to the door. “Uhm, and, uhm, don’t tell Kenny I was here. Maybe, please?”

“Wouldn’t hav’ bothered anyways”, the red-headed woman said, waving them off with a lax movement of her hand, while her oldest son just threw the wood of the sledges on the floor and gave them back to the two blonds waiting at the door.

“Bye bye”, Butters said as he opened the door.

“Yeah, bye, hope we never meet again”, Tweek mumbled under his breath, ignoring the odd look the brunette brute sent his way and his demonstrating loud banging of the door that sent loads of snow down the roof, hardly avoiding them.

“I hate snow”, Tweek reflected, wading through the snow to the side walk. “They could at least shovel a footpath clear of snow, if anything.”

“You hate a lot”, Butters reminded, the two sledges fixed to each other dragged behind him.

“I don’t hate you.”

Butters was weak to compliments, Tweek knew that. He would blush and shut up, because otherwise he would mumbled incomprehensible shit and Butters liked to avoid these situations, which was a plus for Tweek because the other blond would finally keep quiet for awhile.

“I-I- uhm, don’t hate you, too”, was all the blond faintly mumbled, before he hid his face under his hood and Tweek felt the urge to put his arm around the smaller boys shoulders but decided against it. He just stuck his hands in his pockets, noticing with a hint of ease that the snowstorm was constantly lessening, but the sky was still dark grey. At the end of the day, the blizzard will come, Tweek was sure.

And he would be somewhere at Wild Flower Field with a broken neck.

Just great.

They stood in silence for a moment, Butters nervously shuffling from one foot to the other, eyeing his friend out of the corner of his eyes every once in a while.

Tweek gave a little sigh. “That gay thing”, he started, his eyes fixed on the white of the sidewalk.  “are you asking because of that—”

“Tweek.” The other blond intervened, his voice sounding tired.

“… McCormick”, Tweek offered as a sign of friendship. “Well, if so, Craig told me that he is a good teach—”

“How was your first time?” Butters suddenly blurted.

“My first—B-B-butters-gah!” There it was again. His nervous habit. “F-for gah-ods sake. Don’t- fuck. I hate this!” Tweek embrassed his upper body, willing himself to calm down.

What did Craig say?

Think of something else?

Shit, that only worked with the black-haired boy beside him but not in the snow, somewhere at the end of South Park with his supposedly best friend who asked him straightface about his freaking first time.

Or maybe not as straightface, Tweek rackoned when his eyes darted to the other boy, whose face must have been at least as red as Tweeks.

“I-duh-I mean…” Butters started but stopped, hanging his head low. “If ya don’t, I mean, it’s jest that I know nothin’bout anythin’ like that. Ya know, Wendy was right ‘bout me, that is, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Not-nothing exciting” Tweek eventually admitted, his face hidden under his hood, stopping Butters nonsense rambling. “No- no cameras, neither drunk nor stoned, no internet performance, not in a car or a toilet stall, no t-toys or an-anything for that matter. Just m-me and Craig and a single bed, too small for two. Nothing like what Stan or Kyle or Craig or Wendy or Clyde had – ju-just plain boring f-for you, b-but I don’t regret it.”

“I-of course- I was jest askin’-”

“I was a freaking wreck, I had backed out a couple of times before. I was just waiting for Craig to drop me like the frigid I am. There were no flowers or sparks so beat that crap. It was not painful but uncomfortable – the internet wasn’t any help either. I was so nervous I couldn’t even concentrate a-and Craig just stopped halfway through and… he just looked so helpless—”

“Ya…ya really don’t have t-ta tell me this.” Butters interrupted, nervously knutching his knuckles together.

“So you’d rather hear that it was one of the best experiences of my life? Well, it was… anyway…”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, freaking lame, says much ‘bout my life, don’t you think? It wasn’t great, I doubt sex with me could be that good—”

“Hey—”

“Shut it.”

Tweek closed his eyes, could see the memory of that night lingering in the back of his mind. He loved Craig, he couldn’t say it out loud, no, but he did. He didn’t even deserve the other boy. He had never seen Craig so helpless as at that night, when he admitted he didn’t know how to make Tweek feel good, how he could do it that the blond enjoyed it.

“After we got over the first part… well somehow, you know, it’s just… It wasn’t the guh – act that mesmerized me. It had been Craig.” Tweek blushed even harder and he could just see the stupid smile that was probably gracing his lips. “I’m … I’m scared about everything new. My first time away from my parents, my first day of school; elementary, junior, middle, high school – you name it - and I will be scared when we go to college… I was scared about my first kiss, my first time falling in love… but with Craig, you know, my first times always turned out alright in the end. And I’m sure it will be the same for you…”

“I doubt it.”

“I will have my first break up with Craig, too”, Tweek continued as if he hadn’t heard Butters. “And I can see it in the near future, too.”

“That’s bunkum!”

“It’s like it is. I’m surprised we are still together.”

“Tweek—”

“No, really, he should just go and find someone else to date. I will just drag him down - I’m not being pessimistic it’s just that I don’t get him. I force him to give up his bad habits but I am allowed to keep mine. When I confronted him with his smoking he just threw the pack he was having with him in the fire. He didn’t complain, it’s just like Craig to do something like that. And he tries, he tries so hard to keep his promise, so I ignore that he still smokes sometimes,  even though it’s bugging me, but what’s bugging me even more is the fact that he wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Now I may be no expert—”

“No shit.”

“—but I think there’s only one reason he doesn’t force ya ta do somethin’ he knows ya don’t like.”

Tweek gave a weak sigh, before he let his shoulders fall. “Because he’s a better man.”

“Don’t be a retard”, Butters barked and Tweek widened his eyes in surprise, staring at Butters. “It’s because he cares for ya and loves ya the way y’are, ya stupid nitwit. Do-Don’t go all depressed on me. Ya yerself told me, that life ain’t no fairytale and love even less. And from where I stand an’ from what Craig had told me ‘bout your… well, private life, it ain’t looking like he thinks ya’re boring or bad. He actually admitted ta—…”

“To what?”

“Uh… Nothing.”

“Butters! To what?”

“Oh lookie, Craig’s car!”

“I _so_. don’t. care! What did he say?”

“Well, he said—” Butters eyes darted towards the oncoming car.

“Don’t think I will drop this subject just because Craig’s next to me.”

“Can’t ya jest ask Craig, please? I promised ta never tell ya. Please, Tweek.”

The blond eyed his friend with anger and suspicion, until he gave in with a sigh. “Don’t you ever”, Tweek started, closing in on Butters when Craig’s old, beat-up probably sixth-handed BMW, he had spent his whole savings on, parked next to them, “ask Craig a personal question. As we have come to understand, he doesn’t know the word ‘privacy’.” With that said, he turned around on his heels and opened the white door on the otherwise red car. “What do you like about me?”

Craig didn’t even bat an eyelash when he looked at Tweek.

“Catch”, was the only response and the blond noticed a thermobottle thrown at him, which he akwardly caught with both hands. “Who knows.”

Tweek only rose an eyebrow, before he turned his attention to the smell of coffee originating from the blue thermos he held in his hands. The liquid he really needed after the conversation with Butters.

“Well… uhm… I will be on my way then”, Butters said, waving at the two boys.

“Where are you going? You’re coming with us”, Tweek stopped him with one hand on his shoulder. “Get in the car. I’m not the only one who’s going to break his neck.”

Butters knocked his knuckles together, hesitating for a moment, before he pointed to the sledges. “Just throw them in the trunk,” Craig answered impatiently, glancing at Tweek who got in the car and took a big sip from the dark liquid, looking at his boyfriend out of the corner of his eyes, just shrugging as an answer to the unspoken question.

Butters did as said and then climbed on the seat behind Tweek, fastening his seat belt for decency's sake.

“What about Kenny?” Craig asked, watching the shy blond through the rear view mirror.

“He’s dead”, Tweek replied, sipping on his coffee – just the way he liked it: strong.

“I asked Butters.”

Butters shrugged shyly. „Well, he ain’t home.“

“Equals dead.”

Tweek usually tried to be a teensy bit friendly for Craig’s sake, but he was a tad aggravated right now, glancing at his boyfriend. The car smelled faintly of smoke but it had been already when the dark-haired boy had bought it, as excited as he hadn’t seen Craig in a long time. The car couldn’t even drive anymore back then and it had been in the garage for about two months in which Craig and that bastard had worked on it, sometimes Stan came over to help and Tweek and Kyle had watched them work – or more like, Tweek had the seductive snake under watch and Kyle had looked like he read a book but actually checked out Stan’s… assets.

That had been around the time Stan tried to get into Kyle’s pants and his plan had seemingly taken effect on the clueless Jew, at least as far as Tweek could tell.

Now that Tweek remembered, he had seen a lot of Butters back then, the other blond had always followed him to Craig’s garage and played with The Brat and became her bestest friend, while he had probably secretly watched that asshole.

Tweek shook his head, giving a small sigh.

He just didn’t understand Butters.

But, well, there weren’t that many people that understood Craig.

Tweek among them.

“What’s gotten into your pants”, the dark-haired suddenly asked, watching him out of the corner of his eyes. Craig was driving slowly. It had been snowing for a while and the streets were icy due the snow and missing snow clearance vehicles, furrows leading their way.

“You”, Tweek answered, making Butters blush and Craig blink.

It was frightening how well Craig could read his moods, how well Craig knew when to keep silent and when to calm him down with soothing words. At first glance, most people wouldn’t even think him capable of reading anyones moods; he was just a block of ice, desinteressted to everything going on around him.

However, to Tweek, Craig was the epitome of coolness and calmness. He moved with a calculated gracefulness, each move performed with as less effort as possible. He wouldn’t talk much but if he did his words stung with cruel honesty and hit with cold force, hiding the lingering heat behind the cold exterior.

But when they were together, his voice was warm and embracing, his kisses hot, his touches burning – he wanted to be the only one to know that heat, to learn, that ice can burn and fire can send cold shivers down your spine.

Tweek wanted to be the only one.

But ever since he started dating Craig, he had become jealous, obsessive, overbearing and bitchy. He had become so ugly, worse than he was before and Tweek hated himself, because he knew he kept on spoiling himself with the other boy’s presence – and he knew, that he was far too selfish to give Craig up.

Subconsciously, he let his hand drop down on Craig’s resting on the stick shift, his eyes scanning the white monotome landscape, while Butters tried to play invisible as something suddenly caught his eyes.

“Hey, I think that’s Sparky over there!” he said, pointing to a dirty grey dot in the otherwise white landescape.

“And I think that’s Stan’s arm”, Craig voiced, hitting the break with too much unreasonable force, the car slightly stirring in the snow.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” Craig barked as he opened the door of his car and leaned on the roof.

“What the fuck does it look like what I’m doing, asshole?”

Tweek and Butters left the car, closed in on to the arm and voice of very probably Stan and his dog, that was happily munching on the boys arm, though, on closer look, seemed to try and drag that arm around. Craig leaned over a hole, a smirk on his lips, when he saw Stan standing on his toes, trying to reach something he could hold on to.

“That shitty dog just had to jump around like the airhead he is and just so had to fall into a hole.”

“And you just had to jump after?”

“Like hell I did. Now get me outta here.”

“Say pretty please.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not infront of Tweek.”

“Gah!” That was a habit Craig had adopted of none other than frivolous flirt of the year award winner Kenny McCormick, but contrary to the flirt, Craig wouldn’t wink at anyone, he would just impassionately mutter these words, a trademark smirk playing on his lips.

Craig reached one hand out, hardening his crouched stand on the ground, and pulled the other boy out of the hole, tumbling back himself.

“Thanks dude”, Stan puffed, when he lay arms spread in the snow, Sparky licking his face. “What do you say we leave for California?”

“Come again?”

“If we travel all night we can make it by the morning.” Stan continued to sing-song. “Man, I want some sun.”

“Well, get up and in the car”, Craig just said, before he turned around and seated himself on the drivers seat again. Tweek and Butters followed him, both sitting in the back, while Stan joined Craig in the front, Sparky to his feet.

Tweek guessed if Butters could tag along, Stan could as well, though he was a bit surprised by the silent invitation. Craig and Stan weren’t exactly enemies; truth be told, though they would never admit it, they had a lot in common – first and foremost in taste of music as they would constantly chat about this topic, though they would at one point take different turns and start fighting. However, they … just weren’t that much into each other.

Stan turned the radio on, as soon as the engine was started again, and some girl was blaring on about how she will keep on walking for a year, then started rummaging through the glove compartment.

“What are you looking for?”

“A CD, USB-stick, something to listen to.”

“Look in the - fuck.”

Tweek grabbed for the holder, cursing under his breath. He knew, this car wasn’t safe, the slightest change in weather and the stupid wheels would just sway!

“Whoa, dude! Slow down, will ya? It’s not summer, man.”

“That wasn’t me, that were the furrows in the snow.”

“Sure, man – What the- The Exies, Gnarls Barkley, The Swayback – are you for real? Don’t you have anything decent? Like AAR or Green Day or whatever?”

“Just go emo on me and listen to your FOB and MCR, prissy.”

“Fuck you, underground grudge.”

And that was the point, when Tweek was constantly totally lost and didn’t even knew what they were talking about anymore. He would just avert his attention and listen again as soon as the bitching was over. Really, if there was someone Craig could really fight with it was with Stan over music.

“Where are we going by the way?” Stan continued. Tweek never thought the other boy was the talkative type, not that he spent that much time with him.

“Wild Flower Field.”

Stan blinked, before he reached for his mobil phone, pushing one button. “You’re crazy. This will never work out with the streets like this.”

“Who are ya callin’”, Butters asked tentatively.

“Kyle”, Stan answered. “Asking whether he wants to come as well.”

“Don’t. He will spoil the fun and say, it’s not a good idea.”

“Well, it isn’t. But it’s fun and he knows that too. - Wild Flower Field in ten minutes.” And with that he hang up. If Craig would do something like that, Tweek would be totally bewildered. “And I just love to see him in conflict with himself.” Stan continued, smirking.

“Here, The Offspring.” Craig said, shoving a CD in the other boys hands.

“I can live with that”, Stan said after a pause, putting the CD into the slot.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at Wild Flower Field – a place belying the name as they hadn’t seen flowers bloom there since – since Tweek could remember going to that place. Usually it would be a wide green coated field without anything, maybe bits and pieces of wheat, now it was a wide white space that let him loose sense of direction.

He could see Clyde and Token from afar, waving for a welcome.

So, it was supposed to be just the four of them alone, for old times sake, he mused.

Their group had kind of split after they had taken on different majors. They were still good friends, but Token and Clyde were more in the It-crowd, while Craig was seen as some random bad boy with a steadily dropping reputation and Tweek was only an odd-ball among the high school kids. Neither Token nor Clyde would deny their friendship to the two supposed losers, but Craig just couldn’t stand most of Token’s new friends and Tweek wasn’t really a social networking person to begin with.

“The two brats tagged along and Kyle will be here anytime soon.” Craig greeted their friends, his hands stuck in his pockets, Sparky jumping at Token as soon as he had left the car.

“The more the merrier,” Clyde answered with a warm smile, sitting on the hood of his car.

“Someone else coming?”

“Yep, Jason and Kevin. They’ll be coming together I was told.”

Tweek picked up his ears. Maybe not just the four of them then. However, he was surprised to hear that Kevin was coming, as he had moved away somewhere around … some schoolgrade Tweek couldn’t really remember. He had been to South Park last year, to visit his grandparents and they were all surprised how the supposedly refined boy had taken a change to the worse – for his parents. For South Park standards he was so normal he was almost boring, if it hadn’t been for that subtle craziness that came with every person living in this shitty town.

“And the rest?”

“Hiding in their bedrooms, assuming that the oncomming blizzard will turn South Park into a swamp of hypocrisy, just like last year.”

“Pussies”, Craig mumbled, looking at his feet deep in the snow, then at the dark sky. “Then again, I doubt we can pull it of. I had trouble getting the car this far.”

Clyde just answered with a grin, holding out three wooden sticks in his hand, which he held first to Craig, who took one, then to Token, with the last and shortest to himself. “I’m fucked.” He mumbled, the smile fading off his lips, as they compared the sticks.

“So is your car.” Craig replied, smirking.

“Well then, let’s start.” Token cheered, patting Clyde’s car on the roof.

Tweek stepped a few steps away, standing right next to Butters, who watched the boys rummaging through the trunk of Craig’s and Clyde’s car, exposing a sturdy rope and a few battered sledges, which looked like they had seen better days than the one ahead.

“Just hope you don’t break your neck”, Tweek said unoptimistic, watching as the boys professionally started to fix the tightrope to the hook of Clydes car, looking sick.

“Yes, I do wish for that as well”, a voice suddenly demanded and Sparky stopped chasing Token for a while and jumped up against the chest of a grumpy looking Kyle Brovlowski, who wasn’t very thrilled with the dirty, wet dog against his probably not so cheap clothes.

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport”, Jason piped up, appearing behind Kyle, Kevin at his side, and tapping the redhead on the shoulder, before he moved forward to Clyde and put him in a tight bearhug. “I see you’re still as cute and girly as I remember. I’d bone you on the spot if wasn’t for that thing between your legs.”

Tweek rolled his eyes.

Jason had turned into a bulky, sports-addict and you wouldn’t want to cross with him or he would tackle you like Darrell Reid when he wasn’t allowed in his favorite night club. Girls were fanning over him and boys would like to crush him, because he didn’t actually care about anybody’s girlfriends, because, basically, every girl _he_ wanted, was _his_ girlfriend.

“I can’t believe you got me to tag along”, Kevin said, his head hid under a dark blue hood, which was pretty normal for the boy. “Dude, it’s like one in the afternoon, I’ve only slept for two hours on the train or somethin’.”

“The next time you go to a rave, you better remember your dates”, Token replied.

“I don’t _go_ to raves, I _am_ a rave.”

“Who cares?” The black boy answered, shrugging,

“Alright, who’s the lucky first?” Clyde interrupted, wriggling himself out of the embrace. Jason winked at him. The brunette just rolled his eyes and got into the car. “Get on the slide and you better hope I don’t drive 30mph, you asshole.”

Though it didn’t sound much, but if you sat on a sledge  that was always on the brink of throwing you off, it could probably really scare the hell out of you – at least Tweek assumed, watching the other boys getting close to Clyde’s car and Jason’s big form on the small sledge. The wooden toy sunken deeper with the heavy weight of the brunette, almost too deep and Token eyed it with a critical look. Clyde pressed on the gas pedal, the wheels were spinning and with a sudden and probably unhealthy – if Craig’s face was any kind of indication; he had a soft spot for cars – jerk,  the car screwed on the icy layer of snow and speed over the white field, with Jason on the slide for about a second before he tipped over, landing on his back, and the sleight hardly avoiding him, when Clyde was hitting the break again.

The owner of the car leaned out of the window and merely stuck his tongue out.

“Only you can look so cute”, Jason yelled back with an affectionate smile, as he stood up, padding the snow from his clothes. “But I guess this won’t work”, he added, turning to Token and Craig that nodded in agreement.

“I get the griddle.”

“And I think I have skies somewhere.”

About now, Tweek was nearly hysteric and Butters just watched them wide-eyed. Probably in awe.

“I guess, we better leave.”

“Huh?” Butters asked brilliantly, staring at Tweek. “But… but… I would really like—”

“—to break your neck, we have established that already.”

“No, but… Craig, Craig’s getting a griddle! I want to see!”

Of course he wanted to see, because watching some stupid boys not on a sledge but on a device meant for _baking_ was obviously so much _more_ fun.

Whoever said that Craig was level headed must have been insane; the boy had a bloody curious temper, if it was according to his own pace. He just didn’t like surprises.

Tweek watched as his boyfriend got the baking plate out of the trunk, probably not big enough to fit either of their bodies but he doubted that would prevent them from trying. The skies on the other hand looked fairly new, but Token would never suggest using them if they weren’t some redundant junk he wanted to get rid off.

Kyle watched the other boys with his arms crossed infront of his chest, eyeing the ongoing with suspicious interest. He was probably just itching to try it out himself but his pride was yet in the way – probably not for long. Stan watched the red-head out of the corner of his eyes, while they tried to find a way to fix the griddle to the rope, his challenging smirk not missed by anyone.

And Kyle looked like he wanted to jump him.

Sparky was rubbing his head against Token’s leg, begging for attention until the boy finally turned to him, petting him for a moment before he turned back to the task at hand.

Kevin just watched them, bored or sleepy.

It could have been all so peaceful if it hadn’t been for Jason, who was again hitting on Clyde – Tweek slowly but surely got the feeling that the football player was unwittingly serious about his advances, though he certainly wouldn’t be the one to bring that to his attention. Jason was so macho he would pummel you to the ground and kick you until you beg for mercy, that is, if you were still conscious. Be it friend or not.

“They got it!” Butters suddenly said, excitment audible in his voice as he pointed at Stan, who just sat down on the griddle, wiggling his eyebrows at Kyle as he reached his hand out. It took a moment, a frown and then a resigned sigh until the Jew accepted the hand and stepped onto the griddle.

“They are not!” Tweek voiced appalled.

“I think they are”, Butters commented anxious.

Clyde got into the car and Kyle _somehow_ fitted himself on the griddle as well. Stan had his arms and legs around the other boy’s waist, while the red-head was holding onto the metal plate for them.

“You better don’t do anything naughty!” Jason laughed, but was ignored.

“I can’t watch…” The nervous blond gulped, when he heard the engine, closing his eyes. Just a few seconds later he could hear a shriek - that had been Butters next to him - and an even louder ‘Fuuuuuck’ that came from either Stan or Kyle or both, he couldn’t tell, but the car was still running and the other boys cheering with laughter and when he opened his eyes, he saw Kyle, still holding on, a frown belieing the excitement visible in his eyes and Stan with a joyous smile, tightly pressed against the other boy’s back, trying to keep them in balance, while the car was speeding up.

It was only a matter of time until Kyle lost his grip and both boys tumbled off the griddle on the snow. The others laughed and whistled and as the Jew sat up, he just looked at Stan, who was lying in the snow with a stupid grin on his lips.

“Stop giving me that look, Ky. I know you loved it” the dark-haired boy said as he sat up. Kyle kicked him against one leg and Tweek could hear Stan chuckling, before he leaned up and gave his boyfriend a kiss on the lips.

Kyle shoved him back and dunked his head in the snow.

Nice.

“That hurt, Kyle” Stan complained, then turned towards the other boys, “Alright, it works!”

“Okay then, Tweek, Butters, get over here you scaredy cats!” Jason suddenly screamed over the field, and Tweek was about to flip him off – a gesture that came naturally after being confronted with it almost every day of his life – but he decided against it, just threw Butters an intensive look. Said boy knocked his knuckles together, watching Tweek through his thick eyelashes that made girls green with envy.

“I absolutley don’t get you”, Tweek finally muttered, grapping Butters by the hand and dragging him over the field to Clyde’s car. “I think I don’t even _want_ to get you.”

“But-but even Kyle doesn’t complain!” Butters tried to reason, but in Tweek’s opinion Kyle was not the yardstick for everything sane, seeing as that boy tended to throw reason and common sense into the dusties, darkest place of his subconciuose, whenever Stan was involved. Which was, what Tweek excatly told his equally insane friend.

“I heard that”, Kyle answered, a fine eyebrow rising but Tweek just ignored him and put Butters on the griddle, that, on a second look, was actually bigger than he thought, while the other boys watched them in amesument. They must be the strangest couple in the world, Tweek thought, instructing Butters on how to stay alive, preferably with every extremities and inner organs save and sound.

“Sit further to the back, Butters, so that the griddle is slightly above the snow in the front”, Token added, “if it get’s dangerous let yourself fall off. Don’t let the thing hit you.”

“And take care of your fingers”, Kyle said, showing him one ungloved hand, that had red marks on his knuckles and one finger was slightly turning blue. “Keep them at the front. Or else the baking plate will hurt you.”

“I didn’t know that”, Stan said, looking at the pale hand Kyle was again putting in the glove with a guilty conscience.

“You were busy laughing,” the other answered, then winked at him. “And I’m no baby, Stan. I can take a hit or two.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tweek said, interrupting their sweetass foreplay, then pointed at Clyde. “You, you better be careful!”

“Ay, sire!” Clyde replied jokingly, saluting, slowly getting his car started and driving as slow as he could. Which was still too fast in Tweek’s opinion, but Butters was smiling and seemed genuinely happy.

“You do realize, you are mothering him.” Stan pointed out.

“I don’t. He’s my best friend and I just don’t want to see him hurt.” Tweek balled his hands to fists, his chin high as he turned his face to the other boys. “You got a problem with that?”

“I think Tweek just grew balls”, Jason voiced, putting the spasming blond into his trademark bearhug, playfully ruffling his hair.

“What- _gah_ \- do _you_ know”, the blond yelled, stomping on the other boys feet and pushing him into the snow. He was seriously worried about Butters well-being in more than one way and he didn’t need to be made fun off.

“Is it just me, or is The Tweezer slightly spiky?”

“Not funny”, Kevin replied and scrunched his nose in disgust. “Neither you nor your irresponsible insensitive, independent loud mouth.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I second that. The mouth part, that is”, Craig agreed, giving a slight nod. “You do are funny. Just never when you want to be.”

Jason just crossed the arms infront of his chest and continued to sit in the snow, sulking, and, before he could voice any further form of protest – not that anyone would have cared – Token’s face paled, before he started dashing towards Clyde’s car.

“Oi! Butters! Don’t do that!”

Tweek turned around, looking for his friend, who seemingly had lost his balance on the griddle, holding on with only one arm to the the metal plate, his other one wildly brandishing, as his left foot was trying to stop the car – in vain of course.

Stupid boy.

“Just let go!” Jason called, jumping up and following his friend.

“I told him so”, Tweek merely said dispassionately, while Token was about to catch up to the other blond, Clyde probably not even driving 5mph. “I’m going to build a snowman.”

“Oh! Me too!” Stan agreed, while Tweek just watched him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Pretty agreeable, aren’t we today?”

“Pretty aggressive, aren’t we today?” Kyle returned on Stan’s behalf, but closing in on Butters and Token, who had caught the fallen blond in his arms, while Clyde had finally noticed the commotion behind him and stopped the car.

Stupid ass.

“You got any problems, Tweekster?” Stan asked, when they were alone, both forming snow in their hands to small balls, while the other boys joined Token and Butters, Kyle lecturing Clyde on how to be considerate and curteous, when you have a Butters Stotch behind your car.

Kyle and Stan both had the unpleasant habit to meddle with what was not of their concern.

“None of your business”, Tweek replied, bending down to pat some snow on the small ball to make it bigger. He wondered if it was possible to make a snowman twice as big as himself.

“Don’t be like that.”

He could hear Jason’s laugh that almost sounded like a bark, Kyle’s slightly hysterical coloured angry voice and Token’s calm tenor, Butters’ incomprehensible stuttering and he didn’t even have to turn around to see that the blond had his face cast down in shame, knocking his knuckles – a very bad habit he just couldn’t get rid off.

“Say, Tweek.” The blond turned to face Stan, who started to roll the small ball he made in the snow. “About Butters getting hurt, you know, he won’t do that.”

“As if you would know that.”

“It’s the reason he is bashing his head in.”

“Which doesn’t seem to help much.”

Stan sighed, shaking his head. “You’re not going to tell him?”

“Never. If there is something I will carry to the grave it’s that. And you too!”

“I don’t intend to say anything. Neither does Kyle” Stan added hastily before Tweek could interrupt him. “It’s something they have to work out on their own, we know that. And Kenny doesn’t like people who meddle with his affairs.”

“Right, that’s why he choose you two as his best friends.”

“As long as we don’t comment on his life style”, Stan explained, rubbing his fingerless gloves together. “And we don’t meddle with anyone’s life”, he continued, scrunching his nose as he had finally caught up with the insult.

“Sure you don’t.” Tweek answered dryly.

“I’ll help you”, Kevin interrupted them suddenly, bending down to Tweek’s ball before he rolled him through the snow, leaving Tweek behind. “It’s better than watch that choleric keep on rattling on Clyde. You should keep your wife in check, Marsh.”

“You’re one to talk. _Your_ girl needs a leash”, Jason interrupted, obviously having enough of Kyle _still_ going on about safety in combination with Leopold Butters Stotch. It’s not like Butters was mentally challenged or anything, he was not retarded – well, not in the official sense of the word – and he was a normal sixteen year old boy, not a dense child, so Tweek couldn’t understand why the redhead felt like the blond needed a special _safety manual_.

On the other hand…

“Does anyone have a first-aid-kit in their car?” Kyle interrupted, Butters by the hand. Tweek’s eyes widened when he saw the blood contrasting on Butters’ light blue parker and in the blink of an eye he was by the blond’s side and dragged him towards Craig’s car and opened the trunk, looking for the small case.

“Oh god, I hope you haven’t hit any important blood vessels! What if you die of blood loss and then—”

“Tweek.”

“—your parents will come and question us and accuse us of murdering you. Oh god, what if they think it had been Clyde? He will probably put in jail—”

“Being raped?” Craig called after him.

“Oh god, what if Craig hasn’t restocked his first-aid-kit after his last accident with the car two weeks ago?”

“I did that!”

Tweek looked over the trunk towards Craig and raised an eyebrow before he continued to look for the kit.

“Ah… it’s nothin’ serious, Tweek”, Butters tried to calm him down, removing the glove, “I jest cut myself on the metal. It kinda broke on somethin’.” The blond finally found the first-aid-kit inbetween jack, danger sign, different tools and other junk and looked at the cut between thumb and pointing finger.

“Oh god! That must hurt!”

“… A little.”

“Not just a little! Here!” He bandaged the hand professionelly, having visited more than one class on medical first-aid after Craig had gotten a car and Tweek was constantly chased by nightmares of him dying because nobody knew about the simplest mouth-to-mouth and nose ventialition.

After he had finished he nodded at the clean bandage.

“Thanks, Tweek”, Butters mumbled.

“I told you, you were going to die! What did I say? It’s dangerous.”

“But it’s fun…and I don’t want ta always stand on the sideline.”

“Who cares? You will never get on that thing again!”

“That ain’t difficult”, Kevin, who was still rolling the ball through the snow, said, and Tweek turned towards the boy who pointed at Jason who had one shard of the baking plate and Token with the second.

“Well then”, Craig started, smirking.

“That leaves the skies”, Token continued and the glee in their eyes made Tweek twitch.

And _they_ called _him_ crazy?

Without further ado, Craig just took the skies from the ground and marched up to the car.

“You just won’t give up, do you?” Clyde commented from his car, shaking his head. “It’s my poor baby, that suffers the most. Have some consideration, man!”

Token and Craig just ignored him.

 

And Tweek’s mind was running in chaos.

Of course Craig would never, but he would.

Totally.

“Craig’s gonna die”, he mumbled to himself, his eyes twitching nervously.

“No, he isn’t” Butters replied, “Nobody will die, Tweek, so calm down.”

“Can’t”, he answered, as he noticed with growing anxiety, that Craig had put on the skies and bended down to pick up the rope. Clyde leaned out of his car window, waiting for some kind of signal that he could start, while Token gave last instructions on the footing on the skies.

Alright, he knew he was just panicking, of course Craig wouldn’t die, his mind was just acting on its own again. He would _not_ spoil Craig’s fun just because he was worried about something impossible like death. Stupid mind, stupid mind, if he could just hit a switch that would block those thoughts, especially when he knew they were total nonsense.

Just calm down, take a deep breath and calm down.

That was, what Craig used to tell him, when he was overreacting again.

Think about happy things like little puppies - without any kind of virus, of course. Or kittens - that had survived and weren’t eaten by their mother, a newborn calf – that wasn’t killed a month after being born to become meat for humans.

“For gawds sake.” Tweek growled.

Craig was going to die.

„He _ain’t_ goin’ ta die, Tweek! Seriously!”

It was then that Craig glanced over to him, the playful smile that had been gracing his lips vanishing, his features hardening. Token stopped in his instructions to follow Craig’s eyes and as soon as they noticed, the other boys turned around to look at them, too.

“Tweek, calm down”, Butters whispered sideways, smiling shyly due to the sudden attention.

“That’s what I’m trying, stupid.”

“Craig’s goin’ ta worry.”

“I _know_!”

At that moment, Craig dropped the rope to the ground as he kneeled down to open the buckles that kept the skies to his feet.

“It’s alright!” Tweek yelled, trying to assure him and keep the twitching to a minimum. “Just do it!”

 _Not!_ , his mind objected.

However, the boy had already handed the skies to Token, who was changing places with him, putting on his skies, while Craig marched pass the small group to his car and opened the drivers door, retreated a bottle of water and Tweek’s thermobottle, handed the latter to the blonde.

“Th…anks”, Tweek mumbled, looking down.

Damn it.

They stood in silence, Butters looking back and forth between the two, until he fled to Kevin’s side. The snowball had by now an impressive size and it didn’t look like the raver was going to stop anytime soon.

“After Token, we’re doing it together”, Craig suddenly decided, taking a sip from his bottle.

“What… together?”

“That”, his boyfriend replied, pointing at Token, who had given Clyde the sign. The brunette had started the car slowly, picking up on speed and Token kept his balance surprisingly well, Sparky always close behind.

“No!”

“Yes.” With that said, Craig moved towards the rest of them, who had decided to join Kevin in his task of building a snowman. Tweek followed him hurriedly. “Don’t do that, Craig!”, he winced, when he reached him.

“So you want to do it alone?”

“I don’t want to do it _at all_.”

“Just try it. It’s not dangerous”, Stan butted in.

„Stop. Meddling. Marsh!” Tweek growled.

“But just look at Token”, - who was currently fighting for balance but lost the fight spectacular, releasing the rope and landing smack down in the snow, the skies dangling from his feet hold up in the air.

“You have to try something out, before you condemn it.”, Craig said, watching him carefully.

“But… but, no! Just look… look at Butters!”

“I’m fine, Tweek...”

“Butters had been careless.”

“And you can be too. Me too. Especially me!”

“Can’t you stop fighting?” Kyle asked, probably not really expecting an answer, so Tweek just glared at him.

“Geez, that had been my back”, Token said, leaning on Clyde and the skies, as he walked up to them. “Who’s next?”

“Just take the risk”, the dark-haired boy replied determinded.

“What’s going on?” Clyde asked, looking around.

“Craig is going to force Tweek on the skies.” Kyle answered, a tint of disgust in his voice that made Tweek frown.

“I’m going to build a ramp. That’s going to be more fun”, Kevin said, disinterested in their conversation, the hip-high snowball abandoned next to him as he walked out further in the field.

“I… will help”, Jason agreed hastily, following the hooded boy. “And then we put Tweek on the skies and let him jump over it.”

“No.” Kevin shoot back.

“Don’t be mean”, the fay brunette stepped in, hugging Tweek with one arm around his shoulder. “Just let him of the hook this time, Craig.”

Craig looked at Clyde, then at Tweek and shrugged, before he turned around. “Whatever. I’m helping them build the ski-jump. After that, it’s my turn.”

The blond furrowed his brows.

There was no doubt Craig would use the ramp just to annoy him. He knew Tweek would be scared to death. However, if he got with Craig on the skies, he would probably avoid the death trap for his sake.

Tweek was biting his lip, following the blackmailer with his eyes.

Goddamn it.

“You want to continue building a snowman?” Butters suddenly asked, taping against his shoulder.

“Can someone help me for a moment?” Everybody looked at Token, who was pointing with the thumb to his car. “I’m freezing to death, but I’ve got a camping heater and hot chocolate!”

“’Course!” Stan exclaimed happly. “Could need something hot to drink!”

“Sure”, Kyle agreed, heading towards the Bugatti.

Tweek and Butters stood beside each other, the latter nervously knocking his knuckles together. “Let’s finish the snowman”, Butters started again and Tweek nodded absentmindedly. He bent down with the other blond and started to roll the abandoned snowball.

“How big is this going to be?” He asked, not really interested in the answer but it was better than keeping quiet and thinking about what the other boys were doing.

“Until we can’t roll it anymore?” Butters asked back, his eyes sparkling. “Like really, really big!”

“Must be tough, being with him.”

Tweek stopped dead in his tracks, and turned his head towards the three boys that stood at the black EP 112, where the hushed whisper had been coming from.

Stan was holding his hands up, ready to be loaded by whatever was Token going to force on him.

“He knew what he was getting himself into”, Kyle replied not as quiet as his friend had tried to be. “It’s not like they had met the first time the day they started dating.”

Tweek gritted his teeth.

“Everything’s fine”, Token interrupted them, pushing the camping heater in Stan’s arms. “It happen’s. And Tweek can actually hear you.” The dark-haired boy straightened his back, while Kyle just shrugged. “I knew. I wanted him to.”

Stan stomp on his boyfriends foot, earning an angry glare from the redhead.

But Tweek started to roll the snowball again, leaving Butters behind.

As if they knew anything about him and Craig.

As if he didn’t knew he was tough to deal with, stubbornly trying to force his will on Craig. As if he didn’t know that! But he couldn’t change even if he wanted to. They had no right to talk about his affairs.

That’s why he couldn’t stand them, because they always had to evaluate everything, because they always had to have an opinion about everything and everyone.

It just wasn’t fair that he was the way he was.

He never wanted to be like… like that.

He stopped, biting on his lower lip.

Whoever said that he wanted to be born as Tweek Tweak?

Tweek Tweak, the coffee addict, that faggot freak, the psycho, the spaz, that crazy kid, you know, the one with the nervous twitching, give him something to drink and he makes you a shake, that’s right, the one talking about the world’s end, just give him the missing sign, correct, the wrack you want to put into the next nut house.

Fuck them.

Who needed them anyway?

And who needed him.

“Tweek!” Butters called and he looked up, turning to Butters who pointed to the snowball. “That’s big enough!”

He could see Clyde approaching him, brightly smiling. “That’s going to be a huge snowman”, he said, hurring up to him and Tweek finally noticed the size of the ball he had under his hands. “Let’s get it back. Kyle and Butters are making the second one!”

Tweek looked up, watching the two running around in the snow, then glanced to the cars, where Stan and Token where busy with the camping heater.

What did they know?

“Okay,” the blond answered finally.

Clyde nudged their shoulders together in a comforting gesture, standing next to him and putting his hands beside Tweek’s, that left melted prints on the cold surface.

They knew nothing.

The other boys had finished the small but wide skie-jump and Token was beckoning them back, holding up an aluminium cup.

Craig sat next to Tweek on the hood of his car, close enough he could feel his warmth. Tweek wasn’t really that cold, but he moved in closer, their arms touching, Craig accepting one of the silver cups Stan was distributing, him with his thermos.

Nothing.

“Whatcha doing?” Jason asked, accepting the cup Token handed to him as he nodded to the snowball that was going almost to _his_ hips now.

“Apparently, it’s going to be a huge snowman! You gotta love it!” Clyde announced, voice brimming with excitement.

Jason looked at him. “You sure are a fag.”

“Speak for yourself”, Tweek replied, angry.

“Now listen”, Token started, diverting Jason’s attention from Tweek, knitting his eyebrows. “I have it with your fag-comments! Clyde might be the gayest person alive. Yes, I mean, gayer than Mister Slave. I mean, gayer than the gayest gay in South Park—”

“Gayer than Butters?”, Kevin interrupted jokingly.

“Nobody is gayer than Butters,” Kyle commented, sipping on his cup. “He isn’t even included in such statements.”

“Butters is the sole winner of the Fairies Fag Award since it was founded sixteen years ago.” Jason added, giving the boy in question a once-over, Butters nervously shifting under his eyes. “Totally justified, by the way”.

“But Clyde,” Token continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Clyde has piercings,” - he pointing at the plucked fine brown eyebrow, then at the piercings at the tip of his ears - “he cries with Bebe over Titanic and every teen movie ever produced. He loves to go shopping with the girls and will probably become the best Make-up artist on this earth – for this is truly his dream - _but_ ” Token emphasized. “ _but_ he is _not_ gay.”

“He is as straight as an arrow”, Craig confirmed.

“Yep”, Butters agreed, nodding.

“Well”, Clyde said, blushing. “That’s not entirely true.”

The other boys looked at the brunette, his eyes averted as he stared at the snow. “I _do_ think Token is hot.”

“Dude,” Stan started serious. “ _Everybody_ thinks Token is hot. My _dog_ wants to jump him.” He pointed at Sparky, that had been sitting suspiciously close to Token again.

Crazy dog.

“Then why doesn’t he get a girlfriend?” Jason asked.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want him to, would you?” Tweek mumbled under his breath. “You’d get jealous and snatch every girl away.”

“Come again?”

The blond just ignored the bulky brunette, taking a gulp from his coffee. He could feel the irritated stares, but he couldn’t care less.

“He can’t get one”, Token said, probably saving Tweek from a very painfully long-winded death. “There’s no girl from South Park and an outsider is out of the question.”

“What he said.” Clyde confirmed.

“How so?”, Butters asked timidly.

“You remember unwritten rule 26? ‘If you ever date some outsider, you have to introduce them in two weeks time’?” Token asked and Butters nooded. “Right, and who would like to introduce a bunch of fags like you as their best friends?”

The other boys looked at Token, frowning.

“True,” Kyle finally acknowledge.

“You just can’t reason with facts.” Kevin seconded, shrugging.

“Yeah, have you ever tried to argue with Kyle?” Jason exclaimed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Excuse me?”

“… I said facts, Jason, not fags…”

“I know, I just wanted to say that.” The sturdy boy answered, laughing over his own joke, while the other boys decided to ignore him.

“Just like Cartman”, Kyle almost spit, frowning.

“Apropos Cartman. Why isn’t he coming?” Token realized.

Stan wrinkled his forehead. “I only called Kyle and Kyle sure as hell doesn’t call Cartman.”

“He either invites himself. Or Kenny does.” Kyle continued, putting his cup to the side and getting back to the second snowball. “I think that’s good enough. Let’s get it on the first and continue to the third.”

Everybody nodded and put their empty to half-full cups to the side and got down to the task of creating the biggest snowman since the come-alive snowman from summer two years ago that finally got the government to admit that maybe, a little, they still had to argue a bit, but somehow the possibility of something abstract like global warming could be possibly existing. Maybe.

Just as everybody had, to Tweeks reassurance, postponed the idea of getting him on the skies and Craig for getting on the ramp, there just _had_ to be a disturbance by the person he wanted to see the least for the rest of his short, and heart-attack-ended life.

“Where’s that Butters Stotch?” his voice suddenly rang from a small hill, where the snow had visibly lessened due to them rolling the snowballs.

“Right here,” Jason called back, ignoring the looks he received from the other boys – just like everything else.

Tweek wanted to slap him.

“Seriously, he’s blood thirsty. I would hide myself,” Kevin advised, when he saw the blond nuisance stomping through the snow in Butters direction.

“You come with me”, the infurated bugger said as soon as he reached them, grapping Butters by the upper arm and dragging him away from the other boys, a short greeting for Kevin on the way pass him.

“Go for him!” Jason cheered, Stan boxing him against his shoulder.

Tweek mentally thanked him.

“It’s going to be difficult to find a private spot here”, Token called after them, not that that stupid jerk would care.

“What’s gotten into him?”, Kyle wondered aloud and Craig looked at Tweek, who just shook his head.

He knew from the beginning that Butters was just getting himself into trouble again, when he went to ask him for help.

Though Tweek wouldn’t trust Stan as far as he could throw him, but he was right on one thing: that bastard just didn’t like meddling – whoever it may be. And worse than meddling was charity, especially if it was meddling charity, as what one could call Butters’ behaviour.

So what _if_ he saw Mister McCormick in Skeeter’s bar?

He was just jumping to conclusion – alright, so these conclusions turned out true, but he still didn’t have the right to rub it under that stupid git’s nose by thinking he could help him out with bringing the McCormick’s some stupid wood.

Butters was doing unnecessary stuff, which is probably exactly what that popular loner was going to tell him.

“You know something, Tweekster?” Craig asked.

“I don’t care anymore”, was all the blond answered, before he turned his attention toward the huge snowball that lay abondend. “I _told_ him he was going to get in trouble. Lets get this thing on the first.”

Kevin joinend him and the other boys followed suit, glancing once in a while to the strange couple, but otherwise trying to ignore the bastard’s angry hushed whispers, while Butters just stood in silence; but as curiosity would have it, they still tried to get at least bits and pieces but nothing was reaching their ears, until Butters suddenly decided to speak.

“Enough!”

Tweek stopped for a second in his task of heaving the second huge ball onto the first, same as everyone else for that matter, to turn around and look at Butters, who had his hands balled into fists.

“It’s enough already, I get it!”

“The fuck?” Jason voiced everyone’s thoughts, the dirty bastard’s included, Tweek was sure.

“I’m sorry I said I… I like ya!”

“The _fuck?_ ”

“I—I know ya hate me so much, you jumped infront of a truck, when I said it. But you’re still—still nice to me. I—I know it’s you’re personality, but—but it’s enough. I—I can’t do this anymore, so stop being nice ta me and stop being cruel ta me! Stop-stop talking ta me and stop yelling at me! Stop helping and then hurting me! Je-jest ignore me!”

The snowball was gradually becoming heavier with every passing second but Tweek didn’t care, neither did the other boys, to enthralled with Butters unexpected open confession. So what if everybody knew Butters was head over heels for Kenny fucking McCormick, nobody actually expected him to realize, let alone confess.

The other blond’s voice was still low when he answered, and now the boys were _really_ craning their necks, desperate to hear what the reply would be. Except Kyle - but Kyle would probably hear from the trash talker a few days later about this incident – and Craig, because Craig really didn’t care for anyones lovelifes. He had enough trouble with his own.

They still couldn’t hear and decided independently from each other to take a few steps forward, cold water running over their hands, drenching their gloves, the snowball quite heavy on their shoulders and arms.

Butters eyes widened, before tears started to well on his eyes, his jaw tightening.

“He made Butters cry”, Kyle assessed dryly, blinking.

And Tweek was out for blood, but before he could stomp off to the two blonds and pummel that motherfucker into the ground, Kevin and Craig both grapped after his shoulder, at the same time fighting to shoulder the heavy snowball and replacing Tweek’s suddenly missing support.

“Let me go”, he growled, but before anyone could react, that soon-to-be receiver of Tweeks wrath just stomped of.

“I don’t care.” He shouted, obviously frustrated, while Butters was staring to the ground, his whole body stiff with hardly suppressed anger, disappointment and most of all sadness.

Tweek kept watching Butters, noticing somewhere in his subconscience that the boys had finally let him go and placed the heavy snowball on the first, fixing it with more snow.

He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t really the comforting type and more of, he was glad that Butters had finally been rejected. Because he knew, one word and Kenny McCormick could have Butters on a silvern plattern if he wanted.

He stood their a few moments, unsure of what to do, when Butters’ body suddenly softened and he turned his face towards the nervous blond, strained smile on his lips.

He hated that smile.

But “You coming or what?”, was still all he called, before he turned towards the other boys, working on the third snowball, eventhough the snowman was already bigger than Kevin. But Kevin was sort of a shorty among them.

“Do we have something to make a face of”, Butters asked innocently as he reached the small group.

“What did Kenny say?”, Jason asked blatantly, the boys glaring at him. “What? I’m sure, I’m not the only one who wants to know!” He defended himself, when Stan wacked him over the head – Tweek mentally thanked him again.

“What do you think Kenny has said?”, Kyle asked rhethorically. “Probably: ‘Why, Butters?’.”

“Dude…” Stan said, giving his friend a reproachful look.

“Can someone please just play some cheesy lovesong, like Lovefool? We cry, we laugh, and with the song this freaking daily soap atmosphere will hopefully vanish as well.” Kevin said.

“I’m sure Craig has something like that in his car.”

“Talk for yourself, Marsh.” The black-haired boy shoot back, his hands wandering to one of his pockets that only touched air. Tweek noticed the look of dejection that flinchend over Craig’s sharp cut features, the slight sigh escaping his lips.

“Finally! Have one!” The raver squealed; the first time on this day that either of them had seen him this energetic.

Tweek’s left eye started to twitch when he saw Kevin almost throwing himself against Craig’s chest. “I hate smoking alone and those fellas are all non-smokers!” He wailed, holding his cigarettes under Craig’s nose. “Ya goin’ t’ join meh, ain’tcha?”

“I don’t smoke anymore” the dark-haired boy answered, his eyes darting to Tweek who could just see the words ‘in front of Tweek, at least’ in those dark pupils.

“Whaaat? Because your boytoy doesn’t like it?” Tweek was surprised. Kevin was sharper than one might expect. “Geez, when have you become such a pussy? It’s like you’re totally henpecked. And I always expected you to be the man in this relationship.”

Craig was unfazed, while Tweek was on boiling stones.

“Kevin, that’s enough”, Token interrupted, glancing at the blond.

“Maah, when I heard about them I just had to come and see for myself. I mean, they have been stripping each other with their eyes for years, it was really just a matter of time. Have been waiting for years, took you quite a while to figure it out.” Kevin withdraw a cigarette, putting the package back into one of his pockets. “And then, finally, Token called. Though Clyde let it slip”, Kevin explained further, lighting his cigarette, moving provocingly closer towards Craig. “Or more like, I was on the phone, when Clyde stormed into Token’s room and announced it with all the grace and air of a gossip newscaster. Couldn’t believe it. Thought I hadn’t seen you guys for awhile and could connect the two things. Though I really couldn’t imagine you two together.”

“You wouldn’t want to”, Jason commented, laughing heartedly.

“Guys, stop that. I mean it!” Token said, close to anger as he could get.

“No really, it’s just – weird.”

“Well, then just imagine Craig with McCormick, if that’s better”, Tweek growled, clenching his jaw.

“Oh! That’s hot!” Stan exclaimed without thinking and Tweek froze for the blink of a moment.

“Stan!” Kyle scolded.

“Oh, they would be a good couple”, Kevin agreed. “Pretty interesting.”

“Enough!” Token yelled, then glanced at the blond, who didn’t even knew how to react. He could feel the anger slowly dissipating, replaced by dazing revelation.

That… had stung.

He had known that Craig and him were strange, and he knew he was just asking for it, when he said that, but to actually hear it from someone else. Tweek could only stare at the white snow.  Craig on the otherhand merely snatched the cigaretts out of Kevin’s hands and headed back to his car.

“Now you have done it.” Token said, not looking at anyone in particular. “You really made him angry.”

“How could you tell?” Jason asked, following Craig with his eyes. “That guy is as expressionless as a stone.”

“He didn’t flash us the finger”, was all Token answered, before he turned around, nudging Stan and Kyle in the side to help him lifting up the snowball.

“Hey, I wasn’t serious”, Kevin defended himself. “And it’s not like Craig cares what I say. I’m THE Douche, remember? Tweek, you know it was just a joke, right?”

“Leave him alone”, Butters demanded, pushing himself between them before he leaned towards Tweek.  “Tweek”, he whispered quietly, taking him a bit to the side, “Don’t just stand here. Shouldn’t ya talk ta him?”

“No. It’s true. Kevin’s right. He would be better off without me.”

But why did it hurt so much?

“I never said that!” Kevin called over.

“Shut your mouth!” Butters growled, then turned back to his friend. “Tweek Tweak! Now we had that topic today, but ya just don’t seem ta get it, ya self-conscious little brat!”

“What did you just call me?”

“I named it! There’s a reason Craig’s together with ya, why don’t ya get it? Just ‘cause ya suffer from self-doubt issues ya think Craig has the same problem? I _told_ ya _today_ that there _is_ a reason he is staying with ya. Even if other people have a problem with the two of ya, and can’t imagine ya together” – he threw a warning look at the boys in question, who tried to hide behind the huge half-finished snowman – “and don’t think about that others might would have a problem with imagenin’ them _as well_ , _if_ it hadn’t been thanks to some video, that _everybody_ knows _excatly_ what they are doin’ in _their_ bedrooms.”

“Now really,” Kyle started, but was brushed aside.

“I know I’m not someone ta talk, ‘cause I don’t… don’t have any experience, but what I do know is that keepin’ secrets and always holdin’ back can only turn out ta the worst.”

Tweek didn’t need to hear something like that from Butters. They were all just liars, telling him pretty little white lies, he wouldn’t feel inferior, would feel save but it was just sweet talking. They were his friends, they were supposed to comfort him.

He didn’t trust them.

“Has someone popcorn? This is turning into a real-life teen drama movie. That’s worse than ‘We will Strock you’. Disgusting French copy-cat singers.”

“Shut up, Jason! You’ve done enough already!”

They knew nothing.

Right?

Tweek gritted his teeth, then turned around and walked towards Craig’s car.

The boy was crouched down, the backleaning against the red door of his BMW, the cigarette hanging from his lips and the hands in his pockets, staring at the dark-grey sky.

Right, Craig?

Tweek followed his eyes, but could only see depressing clouds dimming the sun. It was clicheé weather. All they needed now were them dripping in the rain, with a car driving by and drenching them even more.

“I can’t change what had happened”, Craig suddenly started, without really acknowledging Tweek’s presence. “And to be honest, I don’t want to change anything, because it wouldn’t have lead me to where I stand right now.”

Tweek looked at him for a long time.

“It’s not about what Kevin said?”

“Who cares what Kevin says. He’s a douche.” Craig answered, wrinkling his forehead. “Look, what happened between Kenny and me, I’m not going to apologize for anything—”

“That’s not it!”

“So, you’re making a big deal out of this, because?”

“I can’t tell you!”

Craig didn’t give a reply, just took the cigarette between the fingers, tapping the ash off on the snow, while Tweek nervously started to chew on his lips, watching the nondescripted features of his boyfriend, the lack of any kind of emotion.

“So you don’t trust me?”

“I keep telling you, that’s not it!”

“You’d rather let me keep on worrying about you?”

“Yes, I mean no… but”, Tweek balled his hands to fists, his whole body tensed. “Because it’s stupid! And I know it’s stupid and not justified and I’m just being paranoid! I know it all! And that’s the problem! Because I know, I can’t tell you! It would make me even more pathetic than I’m feeling every freaking day of my stupid life!”

Craig watched him out of the corner of his eyes, exhaling. “It all comes down to one”, he suddenly said, though Tweek didn’t understand the meaning behind those words. “In the end, I’m no good.”

“Huh?”

“Should have know from the beginning, that we’d just keep on running in circles.” Craig’s voice was still calm and collected, he still wouldn’t face Tweek, cigarette loosly between his fingers. “Tweek”, Craig sighed, then turned to face him. “I love you, but you’re really running me down. And I don’t know how long I can keep up with that.”

“I don’t… what … do mean?”

“I’m tired of, of this,” Craig spread his arms, showing everything and nothing, “of you constantly doubting me, you not being honest to me, of us always fighting about something I don’t even know or understand, and you don’t even try to explain.”

“What are you talking about?”

Though he already knew.

“For once, I think your parents were right, I’m not fit to be with you. Looks like I’m really just a snobby half-baked brat, still wet behind the ears, knowing nothing about the way of the world, impatiently waiting for something that was probably fated to fail.”

Tweek’s body was shacking. He could feel something wet on his cheeks, hoping it were just snow drops melting on the warm skin, hoping that the burn in his eyes was because of some allergic reaction.

But.

“Just say it”, he finally bit out, and Craig turned to watch him through cold eyes.

“Let’s break up.”

Tweek stared a long time at the other boy, his jaw clenching, his lips tightly pressed together. The snow drops running down his cheeks were peculiar warm and tasted salty on his lips. It was so cold even his nose started to run and his vision blurred.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much more than he could have imagined, and he hated himself that mere words could hurt him so much his chest felt like he was suffocating, so much that there was some unnamed dull ache he always felt when he saw Craig and that bastard running off somewhere without him, someplace he didn’t knew and never would.

“No”, he whispered, though he doubted that Craig could hear him. “No!” he repeated, louder, stubborn, firmly.

Craig raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No!” he almost shouted, his eyes closed, and he wiped with his sleeve over his nose.

“Then we will continue as we have till now?”

“No, I don’t know. Yes? I, I don’t know!” Tweek crouched down, hiding from everyone that might see him, hiding his face behind his hands.

“That’s so pointless.”

The blond opened his eyes wide.

“You… you asshole!” he screeched, reaching for snow and throwing it at the darkhaired boy who just lifted an arm to save his cigarette. “Have you… have you _any_ idea how I feel?”

“No”, Craig answered, inhaling the smoke. “How could I? You don’t talk to me about stuff like that. Of course, I could guess, but that’s just to vague.”

“What _is_ your problem?”

“Problem? I don’t have any.”

“Of course you have! What’s this attitude for?”

“You might not know, because you are hero-worshipping me, but I can be pretty petty. It’s just a case of ‘how about a taste of your own medicin?’.”

“You”, Tweek started, furrowing his eyebrows, when he understood the meaning behind these words. “You think this is easy for me? This whole new let’s-start-dating-thing you just threw at me? I spent my nights reading stupid girlish novels and crazy women magazines with 100 tips and tricks on how to make him happy and what to do on your first date and all that rubbish! I agonized over what clothes to wear just to end up with the usual ones! I drove _Butters._ _insane_. with my nervous flips!”

“Same here”, Craig admitted, snipping the butt to the ground. “Just with Kenny”, he added.

“I don’t believe you! You always look so composed, like you know what you are doing and I – I have become ugly. I don’t even like myself anymore.”

And he was hating himself even more with every word, because he knew that he was selfishly putting his fears on Craig, because he detested everything that left his lips, and he was crying eventhough he had tried, so many years, to just ignore the burning in his eyes, he had never cried before, because he was a boy, and boys don’t cry, but ever since Craig, who would just put up with his fits, he had felt like he could be himself infront of the other, that he could cry, when he felt like it, and be demanding, when he wanted to. He had even cried the first time Craig wanted to kiss him – he had been kind enough to try not to scare him and gave him a short warning, but it had just backfired; he had cried the first time Craig had told him he loved him – that sucker had been drunk back then, thanks to some stupid jerk, but still, Tweek just couldn’t help it. And he was crying because it hurt, but the tears wouldn’t stop, and Craig was looking as if he wasn’t even concerned.

“I hate your face.” Tweek started. “No, that’s wrong, I mean…” He just let his shoulders hang helplessly. “You haven’t always been like this, devoid of any emotions, it’s something you have aquired over the years, which wasn’t part of you when I thought you were my idol, I don’t know whether it’s something I learned to love or whether it’s the reason I did fall for you. I… I mean, I don’t feel insecure, when you look at me.” His thoughts were a jumbled chaos he couldn’t organize. “Because your expressionless face shows me honest interest, because I know it’s just your way of trying to hide, but still, you’re not someone who plays with his expressions like other do. If you’re happy, you smile, and if you’re angry, you frown, but right now, what are your feelings? What do you think? I can’t read you anymore, why aren’t you angry, why don’t you feel sad? I would accept every emotion, that you would show me.” Tweek sniffed into the fabric of his sleeve. “Craig… why is this so difficult?

“I’m scared. I know I’m no match for him and I don’t want to change everything I am just to be able to compete with him. He is everything I am not, he can give you everything you need and you deserve so much better, so much more than I can offer, but you and Butters, you are all I have. And I will be alone, if he takes you away from me. I know I’m selfish, I know I can’t give you up without a fight eventhough I know I should just let you go, because I know I’m just a bother.” Tweek wiped with his sleeve over his face, the tears slowly stopping.

“But, but Kenny, he is bright, outgoing, he likes to do fun stuff and doesn’t hide in his bedroom, he easily connects with strangers and has so many friends. Why can’t he just let me keep you two? How will I be able to ever compete with him, when I become even uglier than I already am?”

“Tweek, Kenny is the loniest person I know.”

The blond looked up in surprise.

“Sure, he has lots of people on his hands left and right, drinking buddies and girls he meets in suspect bars, but they are nothing you can call friends. You think they’d be there when he needed ‘em? You think he could talk to them about things he worries ‘bout? Take a look at Stan and Kyle, to engrossed with each other they only see each other. Those are his friends, his best friends, but who do you think these two would choose? And you see, Butters? He would choose Kenny without a doubt, to bad Kenny thinks he is a molester for even having dirty thoughts about him. And me,” Craig stopped, taking a deep breath. “I would choose you over him anytime, and he knows that.”

Tweek blushed when he heard the last sentence and his heart made a quick thud.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like Kenny a lot, but I would never date him.”

“Then why would you sleep with him?” Tweek asked quietly. “Have you any idea how awful I felt, when you told me? I was coming to terms with my feelings for you and you betrayed them, fully aware that you were. Even though we never talked about it, you probably knew at that time, that I… that I… was… so, so much.”

“Yeah, I did, but Tweek, I told you I’m no hero”, Craig replied, “you have to get that image out of your head. I panicked. When I noticed your feelings, I tried to handle them as I saw fit, which probably wasn’t the best way around, I don’t know. I sorted them out. With Kenny. And I panicked, when I wasn’t as disgusted as I probably should have been. So I actually considered it. But then again I didn’t even knew whether I could do it with a man, it’s not like a dick usually turns me on.”

“Craig!”

“And I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship if I suddenly figured out, that I couldn’t do it. I don’t regret what happened with Kenny, but I do regret knowingly hurting you. But if it had come to us having sex and I would suddenly chicken out, what would you have done?”

Tweek knew what he would have done, probably wailing in his sorrow, before he decided to never leave the house again until his mother forcefully threw him out and he tried to act normal but it only turned out he had become even more edgy and as soon as he saw Craig he would fleed the scene and ditch every class they would share. Craig would probably try to talk to him a few times but he wouldn’t listen, because he was twitching like an idiot. In the end, he would never get into a relationship _ever_ again and die alone in a hospital without friends – because somewhere after high school nobody would want to have to do anything with him – alright, that sounded strange…

But yep, that was like him and his future.

“Then what about him?”, he asked tentatively, his eyes casted down.

“Kenny is special.”

“Stop saying that!”

Craig gave an irritated sigh. “Because he doesn’t have expectations.”

Tweek absentmindely played with the snow, evaluating the statement.

“He acts like an asshole because he likes to tease you, but in the end, he was really putting me in my place and explained to me that, yes, indeed, I had a thing for you even a blind man could see and he was surprised that we weren’t already screwing our brains out. Quote, unquote. The thing about Kenny is… you can talk to him and he wouldn’t condemn you, you could complain, and rant, and he would just quietly listen to you. You could tell him that your lifelong dream is slicing a cow open to bury yourself in their intestines to feel secure and he would just lay a hand on your shoulder, sigh, and put you in the next nut house, _but_ he would visit you every day. Trust me at least on this one, he is the loyal kind of guy, he is the last person to steal someone’s lover, he is unexpectedly moral concerning that topic. So stop worrying. I won’t cheat on you with him and he will be damned if he would even consider something like that.”

“It doesn’t have to be Kenny, you could leave me for everyone. Maybe you should.”

This time it was Craig throwing a snowball at the blond, who looked up in surprise, tears blurring his vision, but he could still make out Craig, his arms opened in a welcoming hug, and Tweek just stumbled up to throw himself against the darkhaired boys chest. “You really are a handful.” He sighed and Tweek could hear the wild beating of his heart.

“You too”, he sniffed.

“I could have it easier without you, probably, but do you think I would cope with all this shit if I was just killing time until someone better comes along?”

“And I just don’t get it. What do you like about me, I really just don’t get it.”

“Not your confidence, I assure you.”

“Asshole!”

They fell silent, Tweek trying to still the beating of his heart, listening to Craig’s breath, matching their pace.

“It’s about little things, about everything and nothing.” Crag said slowly. “True, there are things I don’t like, but there are the simple things that make me like you more – why do I even have to explain something like this? Shouldn’t you know it yourself?” He sighed, staring at the sky.

“About what?”

“Do you know that when you sleep you sometimes mumble incomprehensible stuff? And inbetween things like ‘gnoms are going to rule the world’ and ‘please, don’t gouge my eyes out’ you throw stuff like ‘I really love you Craig’, eventhough you can’t say it out loud, because you think some satellites will catch it and tape it and someday it will be used against you and some governmental guys will come to your house and blackmail you into rescuing the world James-Bond-Style, while I will be sent to prison until you have finished the job, being raped – we really have to talk about this fantasy.”

“Have you read my diary?”

“I love to tease you, because when you suddenly start twitching you remind me of Stripe.”

“What?”

“And I love to calm you down even more, because it’s something only I can do. It’s your sleepy face in the morning, when you’re still to dazed to have your brain work up crazy fantasies and you just smile at me and mumble something I never can make out but is probably something like ‘Good morning’.”

“You can stop now”, Tweek demanded, his face bright red, he could feel it.

“It’s how everytime I call at four in the morning you would pick up the phone without hesitation, without being angry or complaining, eventhough I can just tell you had been sleeping and you try to make me believe you had been awake all the time.”

“Please, just stop.”

“It’s about everytime you stood up for me, when I was being falsely accused for whatever had happened, eventhough I couldn’t care less about other people, eventhough I could see how scared you were.”

“Alright, stop it!”

“To have you going psycho again because you doubt me? No, thank you very much.”

“ _Why_ are we dating again?”

“How would I know? Maybe some governmental agents are controlling our brains and forced us to get together because the alliance between us somehow saves the earth from an alien attack and there is a bigger plan behind everything, but we just can’t see it – and if we wouldn’t obey, we would be put in prison. Getting raped, of course.”

Tweek was debating with himself whether Craig was making fun of him – or really had read his diary.

“You know, questions like ‘What do you like about me?’ are difficult to answer. I could just throw it back at you—”

“You understand me, you know excatly how to react and what to do whenever I get one of my fits. I like your hands and your fingers when they trace my skin. I like your voice when you moan my name—”

“Whoa, Tweek!”

“I like how you truly try to give up smoking but cannot follow through. I like how you always be so honest your words sting—”

“That’s not really—”

“It _is_ , because you don’t want to hurt people—”

“You are hero-worshipping me again.”

“Well you are! At least for me, ever since we were kids!”

Craig just buried his face in Tweeks shoulder, but the blond could still see the red tips of his ears.

“I don’t want to be your hero, and I don’t want to be your idol. I don’t want to play the brave one, because someone has to. And though I may act cool, I get anxious too. Half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing but you follow me blindly. I don’t want that. I want to be your lover, who is allowed to make his own mistakes, who is allowed to have his flaws and fears.”

“You are, you do!” Tweek reassured, pushing himself from Craig’s chest to look at him. “And I love you even more for them.”

“You see, that’s why I can’t picture you two together,” Stan suddenly said, appearing over the roof of the car. “Craig being all lovey-dovey, that just exceeds my imagination. My brain is fractured and my world shattered just from that one sentence.”

Craig looked up, before he just flashed the intruder the finger.

“I…I wanted ta stop him, really, but he jest thought ya were making out, or somethin’.” Butters explaining from the other side of the car.

“Fuck off, Marsh”, Tweek growled, but distanced himself from Craig nonetheless. “And Craig is way nicer than you or any of the other assholes!”

“That’s not nice.” Stan frowned. “I just wanted you two to know that we have finished Johnny Bick Bolls.”

“No, he really was just curious, what kept you so long”, Kyle argued, dragging his friend from the car roof, “but just keep on flirting or fighting or whatever this is. Probably both.”

“It’s called foreplay, Kyle!” Jason’s voice called. “But as we all learned, you two don’t know about that!”

“Would you stop with that fucking video already?”

“Never!”

Tweek watched the guys disappear through the window of the car, before he looked at Craig again, then shield away, watching the broken blurry reflections on the snow. “Are… we going to continue this?”

“Is there something we have to continue?”

He didn’t answer, just traced circles in the snow.

“Fact is, I like you the way you are, I won’t cheat on you, Kenny is not your competition, I have to vow my love to you every day again for the rest of my life – I’m prepared for that - and we will _never_ repeat what happened today. I hate all that emotional talk and I never want to see you cry again.”

Tweek nodded.

“So you will trust me and never doubt me?”

“Depends…” Tweek answered after a long moment and Craig just took a handful of snow, throwing it against his head.

“Great that this is solved.”

Though it wasn’t and Craig knew that, just like Tweek, who would never like the asshole McCormick and who would always feel a pang of jealousy, when he would see them. But he would try to work on himself.

If he couldn’t trust Craig, who else could he trust?

And, as he had said himself, every first time with Craig always turned out alright in the end.

Even his first break up.

And so will the first time fully trusting someone.

He stood up, reaching his hand out to Craig who took it in an instant. Over the roof of the car, he saw the other boys, offering the snowman – Johnny Bick Bolls, he guessed - something to drink, steam coming out of the aluminium cups, Jason laughing over something he had told the others, who just frowned in answer, while Kevin whacked the brunette over the head.

“We better get going”, Tweek said, but Craig stopped him, tracing with his thumbs the skin under Tweeks eyes, before he pressed their lips together in a light kiss that tasted of salt, coffee, chocolate and cigarette smoke, but Tweek didn’t mind, didn’t even mind Jason’s loud whistling obviously meant for them. He just closed his eyes, resting one hand on Craig’s waist, while the other hand just flipped that asshole off, and he felt Craig smile against his lips, as if he had seen it.

“Let’s get going”, Craig whispered, his breath brushing over Tweek’s cheek.

“Yeah, the guys are waiting”, Tweek replied, not moving an inch.

“No”, Craig said, smirking. “Home.”

It didn’t even take a second and Tweek was opening the driver’s seat door, climbed into the passenger seat, winding down the window and yelled at the others to bring Butters home, pretty please and thanks a bunch guys, while Craig started the engine.

“My parents ain’t home”, he said, watching his friends looking at the leaving car from the side mirror, saw Jason, making a pretty straightforward gesture with his hips. Tweek just rolled his eyes. Then he glanced at Butters, making out his dejected face.

“But you know, there is still something I don’t get”, he eventually said, looking at Craig. “How come he choose him? Why Butters?”

The darkhaired boy just smiled. “How should I know?”

Tweek just leaned back, ignoring the blatant lie. Actually, he didn’t care, it’s not like he cared about a bastard like Kenny McCormick, who just happened to be his personal Cupid with bow and arrow and who wasn’t probably such a bad guy at all.

Which didn’t make him like him more.

At all.

 


	6. Ze Mole

“I don’t get it, I mean, why Butters?” Kenny wailed, his head on the counter of the bar, a bottle of Heineken in one hand. He was drunk, or rather tipsy, because Kenny wasn’t easy to get drunk and would never have the money to get totally smashed; thanks to his father, who took him to the bars when he was still a baby and fed him beer whenever he cried. But that was still better than his brother Kevin who had to crawl on the wooden floor and eat anything he found.

So, when his little sister was born, Kenny, as well as his brother and mother did everything to avoid that happening to the little infant.

Anyway, Kenny was highly tolerant on the beer side of life, so he wasn’t really drunk and thus he could actually admit, that Kyle was right and he was really an honest to good, whiny drunk, if he wanted to.

“I mean, you know Butters, don’t you?”

His companion gave a small grunt of dissatisfaction, but refrained from reacting further.

Kenny hardly knew the brunette boy, had seen him a couple of times sitting right next to him in Dotty’s bar, sometimes talked to him, when he wasn’t surrounded by a cloud of smoke. He was smoking a cheap French brand, his heavy black army boots always left a thick trail of dirt behind wherever he walked, but the owner of the bar tolerated it with an angry frown, just silently nodding to a poor boy who had to clean after the guy with obviously too much freedom, to be a mere regular customer.

“He is a gullible, naïve goody-goody. He is not even the slightest bit sexually attractive, he is not even _aware_ of his sexuality. I feel like a child-molester, who watches small children on the playgrounds! It’s like I dirty him with my eyes alone! It’s disgusting, but his body is actually well developed and even his face has lost all signs of childishness, but he, he’s _Butters_! Why couldn’t it be, I don’t know, _you_?!”

The brunette looked at him with disgust, before he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. Kenny pressed his head into the crook of his arm and could hear the heavy boots on the wooden floor, metal clacking against metal, producing a tinkling sound.

“Why Butters?” He started anew, turning to the other.

“Like I care”, was all the boy answered, his heavy French accent making the words sound all the more arrogant, while their owner just marched out of the bar, Kenny following him with his blue eyes, noticing the omnipresent shovel attached to his back with a tangle of brown straps.

Strange guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in need of a beta reader. Chapter seven just sitting there and waiting for someone to look it over. (About 30 pages)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: South Park belongs to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.


End file.
